#I don’t know why but every day I love them more and more and this has already lasted for more than a year...

[acmeangel]

Levi always cut his own hair. Always. Over the bathroom sink, the door open just a sliver, a crease between his brow, his lips set in a straight line.

You knew this about him. You figured it was just another one of his habits and particularities, like how he has to brew his own tea. You tried once, and when he took a sip, his nose twitched and he asked “How did you make this?” — not quite an insult, he couldn’t bring himself to be completely rude to you, but you knew what he meant. You haven’t made tea since.

But the hair cutting. He’d never announce it, never make a comment about it after. If you told him it looked nice, he’d simply make a noise of acknowledgement and move on.

You’d simply find him, in the bathroom, door cracked open, while he leaned over the sink, snipping pieces of hair with practiced precision. The muscles in his neck, shoulders, and back would flex and move with every motion, the tension lingering within them obvious. The irises of his eyes looked cloudier, distant, and that crease between his brow persisted. Always.

You push the bathroom door open, slowly, soundlessly, as if a sudden movement would make him disappear into thin air. Sometimes, you thought it might.

You lean against the doorway, watching him — he catches your gaze in the mirror for just a second, his eyes locking onto yours with a fleeting vulnerable intensity, before he focuses on himself again.

You just want to help. It’s all you ever want to do, really — to take over some of the tedious little things he does by himself every day, just because he’s always done them by himself. Bit by bit, you want to show him that the weight he carries on his shoulders is something that can be shared, that you’d carry it with him, happily.

“You know, there are these things called barbers that are pretty good at this sort of thing,” you tease, gently, a faint smile curling onto your lips. You knew a groan was coming, but you also knew he appreciated your teasing. It made him feel more grounded.

Groan. Tch.

“Why would I pay someone to do a shitty job?” His eyes flicker to yours in the mirror again, a touch softer this time.

“Want help with the back?” you ask, your eyes lingering on the strands of hair that have begun to grow down the curve of his neck. “I’ll do it for free. It’s really quite a steal.”

“No,” he says. Instantly, flatly.

You walk over closer to him, as he snips the hair in front of his face.

“I won’t mess it up. I can handle trimming a few pieces of hair.” You smile at him in the mirror, and your hand finds its way to rest on the nape of his neck, gently.
He flinches, slightly. He never moved away from your touch anymore — not since the early days of your relationship, where every affectionate touch was foreign to him. In fact, now he usually leaned into it, wanted it.

“I can do it myself.” His voice comes out a little lower, a little rougher this time. His eyes don’t find yours in the mirror.

“Okay, Levi.” Your hand retracts from his neck, and you exit the bathroom. You didn’t want to push, you never did. You learned that with Levi, things had to progress a little slower. It had been like that since the first time he kissed you — his lips had been so light against yours, his hands just barely cradled your face. He’d never admit it out loud, but you knew he was afraid — afraid to let himself care about something precious, afraid that you’d leave him one way or another, afraid that he’d never be able to give you what you deserve.


You knew none of it was true. You loved him, and you weren’t going anywhere, and you loved the way he loved you. Quietly, subtly, through actions and small gestures, instead of words and big romantic displays. It was all you’d ever need.

You didn’t need him to sweep you off your feet or tell you that he loved you every day. You were just as happy waking up every morning to a warm cup of jasmine tea on your bedside table, in your favorite mug that he had once spent hours fixing after the time you had dropped it. It was always made perfectly — something he’d learned just for you, despite calling it “that herbal crap.”

Seeing the way your lips curved into a smile after taking a sip was really the only thing he ever needed.

So, you leave the bathroom and you get into bed, and you wait for him to join you.

A short while later, he does. He slides into the bed beside you, his head finds the place on your chest that it always does. His head turns away from you, the back of his neck a faint red from rubbing it with a towel, tiny drops of water glistening in his hair.

You reach out and stroke his hair — while he doesn’t let you cut it, he will always let you run your fingers through it. You’ve found that it soothes him, that it helps him relax at night.

He makes a noise of approval, of affection.

“I’ve never let anyone cut my hair,” he says after a while, a hint of apology in his tone.

“Levi.” Your hand continues to stroke his soft hair. “You don’t need to explain it to me.”

“My mom was the only person who’s ever cut my hair.” His voice is low, a rare softness to it, as he admits this, his face turned away from you. “I don’t want…” His voice trails off.

He doesn’t need to continue. You know what he means. He’d told you bits and pieces about his mom, about his childhood, and you’d been able to put it all together. You could tell, by the way he talked about his mom, that his memory of her was starting to slip through his fingers — and now, it seemed, the way she cut his hair is one of the few memories left.

“I know,” you say, your voice soft. “Don’t worry. But, at least let me get you some better scissors for it.”

A long, gentle silence falls between you two. Your eyes trace the slope of his shoulder, the slow rising and falling of his breathing.

He turns over, his head faces toward you. Your fingers drift from his hair to the curve of his cheek.

“Maybe… next time, you can help.” His voice is a slight, relaxed mumble, and his eyes search yours. “With the back. It’s a pain. Practically break my damn neck doing it.”

Mmm, you hum, nodding softly. “Alright, I will.”

“Just don’t make it uneven. Or I might have to leave you for a shitty barber.”

You laugh, and you smile. This is all he ever needs.

The corners of his lips twitch into a faint smile. His hand reaches up to capture yours as it gently caresses his face, and he presses a soft kiss into your palm. You know what this gesture means.

“I love you too, Levi.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

My first time posting a little Levi one shot fic. Maybe I’ll do more! Hope you like. :)

Masterlist

[thewritingrowlet]

The Blank Slate, ft. Kep1er Chaehyun

tags: creampie

length: 8k+

author's note: This one was inspired by an AI chat bot I stumbled upon.

-

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today; we will continue next time.”

The people in front of you have been exhausted from working all day, so the fact that you’ve called off the meeting is like music to their ears. “We will see you tomorrow morning, sir.” You shake your head. “I don’t know when I’ll get here tomorrow., Mr. Kim,” you say. You notice the way he lets out a sigh, seemingly in relief. “Of course, sir.”

People start leaving their seats one by one with their gadgets in their hands. “Oh, director,” Mr. Kim turns around again, “happy birthday to your wife.” You smile. “I will tell her that, Mr. Kim—thank you.” He looks sympathetic, and you’re thankful for his kindness. “Go home to your wife, Mr. Kim; tell her you love her with every cell in your body,” you say to him as he walks away. He smiles and nods. “Will do, sir.”

-

You find yourself walking through the quiet and cold hallway of the hospital to reach your wife’s room.

You gently open the door. “I’m home, love.”

It’s true. This hospital room has been your home for almost the entirety of the past year. This room where your wife is lying dormant, uncertain when she will ever wake up again, is your home and will continue to be for God knows how long.

You look at her vital sign monitor; her heart is still beating steadily, and her blood pressure is still at acceptable levels.

You take a seat on the chair next to her bed. “Good evening, sweetheart,” you place your hand on hers. “I’m sorry, a meeting held me back.” You hear no response from her, but you’ve gotten used to this already. “You’d like to hear about the meeting, wouldn’t you?” You stay quiet for a moment, pretending to wait for her answer. “Well, you see, Mr. Kim had some ideas he wanted to share with me and the managers, so we sat down and had a long discussion—if it wasn’t for you, my love, I’d still be at the office with them.”

You continue telling her about your day until your mouth gets tired of talking. “I’ll get us some food, love; wait for me, alright?” You leave your seat to get some food from the bag you were carrying; today’s menu is spicy noodles with chicken katsu.

You place her food on the counter next to her bed and open the other one for yourself. The first bite sends you high to the sky. “Oh, this is amazing; no wonder you like this place so much.” Your mouth that is already full of noodles doesn’t stop you from shoving more into it. “The chicken is so juicy too, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You finish your food in no time; you couldn’t have lunch today, so you’re very hungry tonight. “You liked that too, didn’t you, sweetie?” You leave your seat again to throw the empty container into the bin, and when you return—

Wait a minute.

Wait a damn minute.

Why are her eyes open?

“Hello?” Your wife’s eyes slowly move towards you. “Love? You’re awake?” Her eyebrows furrow. “Where… am I?” Your heart starts racing, excited by the fact that your wife has regained consciousness. “You’re at the hospital, love.” You quickly return to your chair. “You’ve been at the hospital for nearly a year now.”

“Who… are you?”

Your heart cracks—does she really not recognize her husband?

“I-I’m your husband.” The shock has you stuttering. “Do you, erm, do you not remember me?” She stays silent. “You’re my… husband?” You rush towards your bag to get some proof for her. “Look, love; I have some documents here.” Your wife squints as she tries to read the paper through the clear sheet protector. “Marriage… paper?”

Your wife places a finger on her name. “Who is that?”

Your heart shatters—has she lost her memories?

“T-that’s you, love; y-you’re Kim Chaehyun.”

Chaehyun looks at the paper blankly. “I-I don’t know,” she says. “I-I don’t remember anything.”

Feeling weak, you drop onto the floor. Your mind is still stuck with the fact that she doesn’t remember anything. “Oh, God, no.” Your voice becomes smaller, devastated by the revelation. “I-I’m sorry, but I-I don’t know what’s happening,” she says.

You mindlessly slam your head against the steel frame of her bed. “W-what are you doing?” Chaehyun yelps when you slam your head again. “P-please stop—w-what are you doing?” You sigh. “This is all my fault—oh, God, please forgive me.”

Chaehyun asks that you get on your feet, so you do just that. “Y-you said you’re my husband, right?” You nod weakly. “H-how long have we been married?” You sigh deeply. “A little over four years.”

“Then hug me, l-love.”

You bend down to hug her as she wishes, and the two of you break into tears. “I-I’m so sorry; I-I just don’t know.” You shake your head. “It’s okay; none of this is your fault.” You try pulling away from the embrace, but she doesn’t let you. “P-please, just stay with me,” she begs.

You haven’t heard her cry in months, but the sound hurts the same way it used to, if not worse. “L-love,” you hear her say. “A-are you angry—p-please don’t be angry.” “No, I’m not angry,” you assure her.

You ask her to let you go for a second because you want to call a doctor or a nurse over to check on your wife, and before long, a nurse walks through the door. “Good—oh my goodness,” the nurse exclaims. “She has woken up?” You nod. “She’s lost her memories, I think.” The nurse’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?” You point at your wife, gesturing to the nurse to see for herself.

“Mrs. Kim,” the nurse calls to your sobbing wife. “Do you know where you are?” Chaehyun starts crying again. “P-please stop asking questions; I-I can’t answer them.” You place a hand on your wife’s shoulder to help her stay calm. “Of course, Mrs. Kim—look, I’ll be checking your physical conditions right now, okay?”

While the nurse checks on your wife, you decide to head to the toilet to refresh and clear your mind a bit. When you return, the nurse happens to be stepping out of the room. “Be patient with her, mister,” she says. “I will try my best,” you reply.

Chaehyun is looking around the interior of her room—she hasn’t seen any of it since she got here. "Hi, love,” you make sure your voice is gentle, “did the nurse say anything?” She nods a little. “She, erm, she said my muscles have gotten weaker, but I’ll get better with therapy.”

You drag the chair over closer to her bed again after noticing that the nurse moved it earlier. “You said you didn’t want to answer questions, love, but can I tell you about some stuff?” She nods. “My name is Kim Jaehwan, and yours is Kim Chaehyun,” you start. “We used to work in the same company, but obviously not anymore.”

Chaehyun looks at you intently, eager to hear more about the previous life she had with you. “We got married a year after we had started dating, and erm, we bought a house together in our second year of marriage.” She nods. “What else?” You take a few deep breaths as you think about some interesting things she’d like to hear. “Erm, we actually planned to repaint the house before you got hurt; we had discussed about the colors and things like that.” Your wife asks what the current color of the house is. “Well, the bedroom is still light gray, and the kitchen is… I don’t know, coral?”

Your wife turns her attention to the full moon that’s visible through the window. “Can we go outside?” You know there’s a wheelchair in this room, so you suggest having her sit in it while you push her around. “One second, sweetheart.” You help your wife sit in the wheelchair and hang her IV bag on the little pole attached to it. “We’ll make a stop at the nurse’s desk first, love.”

After reporting to the nurses that you’ll be taking her outside, you push the wheelchair towards the escalator. Before long, you find yourself strolling through the hospital’s park while pushing your wheelchair-bound wife.

“It’s cold,” your wife says, so you put your jacket over her to shield her from the night air. “Thank you.” Chaehyun blushes a peck land on the top of her head. “Did we, erm, touch a lot?” You chuckle. “Physical touch is our love language,” you remind her.

You park her wheelchair next to a bench and then take a seat on it. “What are we thinking, sweetheart?” She takes a few deep breaths, getting some fresh air into her system after spending many months in a room. “It’s great out here,” she says.

You ask if she’d like to go home within the next few days. “What is home to you, erm, love?” Her cheeks get hot; it feels very odd and awkward for her to call someone by that name. “Home is wherever you and I are,” you answer. Chaehyun is intrigued. “Really?” You nod. “That room you’ve been occupying this past year is my home, simply because we’re in it together.”

Chaehyun takes your hand in hers. “I want to go home—like, our home.” It is such a simple sentence, but your heart is warm, nonetheless. “We will, sweetheart; we’ll see if we can leave this place tomorrow.” “Wait,” she says. “What about your work?” You chuckle. “Only you deserve my time and attention—besides, it’s not like anyone can fire the director.”

-

With your arm wrapped around her, you guide her towards the front door of the house. “Do you want to try unlocking that?” Her eyes are locked on the little fingerprint scanner underneath the handle. “Go on; place your thumb on it, sweetheart.” Chaehyun does as you say, and her eyes widen when the lock unlatches. “T-this is—” “I’m not lying to you about anything, love.”

You want to take her to the bedroom, and when you ask if she’s down for it, she looks hesitant. “W-what bedroom?” You point at the brown door that’s visible from the living room. “That’s our safest place, love.” She trembles in nervousness. “S-something doesn’t feel right.”

You’re stunned; is there a chance that she remembers that night, even if it’s minimal?

“Please follow me for now, love; I promise I’ll get you up to speed.” Your words make her feel more uneasy, but still, she follows your direction without asking twice. Once inside, you help her get on the bed and join her on it right away.

You ask if you can hug her from behind like you used to, and since she says yes, you wrap your arms around her. “Love, I’ll tell you about everything that happened that night, okay?”

You start from the beginning where you and she had a fiery argument in this very bedroom. Mean words were that were flying out of your lips were like daggers, stabbing her gentle heart. Again, and again, and again. In the heat of the moment, you also said you would’ve been okay if she had filed a divorce.

Devastated by your attitude, Chaehyun stormed out of the house. She was so focused on the fight that she didn’t notice the speeding sedan coming from her left when she was crossing the street. The car hit her hard, thus sending her flying a few meters away from the spot of the impact. Due to the crash, her body bounced and rolled around on the hard asphalt, and at some point, her head got injured, hence the loss of memory.

“Like I said, sweetheart, it’s all my fault.” Chaehyun turns around to face you. “It’s a sad story, isn’t it?” You nod. “I’m willing to pay whatever price just to return to that night.” The smile on her face is gentle. “It’s always easy to look back in anger or sadness, but what is there to be done—is this not a new start for us?”

You’re getting goosebumps. Chaehyun is showing glimpses of her past self: the wise and loving woman you fell so deeply in love with.

“Yes, we can indeed start again,” you say. Chaehyun places a hand on your cheek again. “Promise me that you’ll be patient with me, love; I’m going to need you by my side.” You feel a surge of determination within you to make very good use of this opportunity. “I’ve learned my lessons, and I swear I won’t make the same mistakes.”

Chaehyun ties the vow by kissing you, and truthfully, you’re both excited and startled to see her take the initiative. “Husband and wife kiss all the time, right?” You chuckle. “Maybe not all of them, but we sure did.”

It appears that Chaehyun has found her fondness for kissing again as she pulls you closer for another one. “I… love you.” You shed a tear involuntarily; if there’s one thing you’ve been longing for, it’s hearing her say those three words. “I love you more, love—thank you for coming back.”

You proceed to ask if she can describe what her long sleep felt like. “I don’t know,” she says. “I didn’t feel anything in particular.” You guess that people who are in a coma don’t have dreams like ordinary sleeping people do.

“What about you, love—what were you up to when I was asleep?” You sigh. “Just working, really; I’ve been working a lot as a way to keep my head above water.” Speaking of work, Chaehyun asks if she used to be a workaholic, and you chuckle. “In around 3 years of working together, you’ve only done one overtime.” She giggles. “That sounds about right.”

-

You panic when you notice that your wife isn’t lying in bed with you, and your first instinct is to sprint out of the bedroom, fighting through sleepiness and exhaustion. You let out a sigh of relief when you see her sitting on the sofa.

“Good morning, love,” you greet her. “Good morning to you too, hubby.” She never used such a name for you before, and the newness makes you giddy. You join her on the sofa, and out of habit, you rest your head on her thighs. “Erm, did we do this often?” You slap your forehead for forgetting. “We did, love—uh, I like your thighs a lot.” Chaehyun blushes. “Y-you shouldn’t say something so vulgar.”

You’re about to drift back to sleep when Chaehyun asks for your attention. “Do we have a morning routine?” “Well, yes,” you say. “We used to have tea together in the morning.” A small smile appears on her face. “Who likes tea?” You point at her. “Oh, really?” You chuckle. “I like tea because of you, love.”

With her safely seated at the dining table, you open the pantry. You grab some boxes from it and place them on the table, giving Chaehyun the chance to choose. “What was my favorite?” Your heart sinks as realization hits: her favorite lychee tea expired around two months ago. “It was lychee, but erm, I had to throw it out because it was going bad.” She smiles. “That’s alright—I’m sure I’ll learn to like other things.”

Today’s tea of choice is strawberry apple, and after taking a small sip, Chaehyun beams. “This is lovely,” she says. You smile. “I liked that tea because it was one of your favorites.” She scratches her head. “The more I listen to you, the more I get curious about my past.” You assure her that you don’t need her to remember (or even become) her old self; she’s still your wife whom you love the most, even if she ends up becoming a different person than before. “You’re sweet,” she praises you.

You ask if she wants to shower, but she declines—Chaehyun wants you to give her a tour of the house first. “We can finish at the bathroom,” she says.

You start from the front of the house because there’s a handful of thoughtful and well-planned details there. “You were quite… insistent about those flowers.” She giggles. “I mean, don’t you think they look pretty?” Chaehyun hops in front of the pots. “Which one is the flower, love?” You burst out laughing. “You’re no flower, love; you’re my light in this world.” Your wife’s grin is replaced by a blush. “Oh, you’re making me weak.”

The tour continues to the interior of the house. You point out to her which furniture was her choice and which was yours. “Whose idea it was to hang that painting there? “It wasn’t an idea, per se; it was a gift from your parents, so we had to put that somewhere.” Your wife asks where her parents are. “They passed away shortly after you had gone into coma.” Chaehyun promptly wraps her arms around you to seek comfort. “I’m sorry, love, but between you and them, there was nothing else I could’ve done.” She nods. “I’m sure you’ve done all you could.”

You ask if she still wants to continue considering the sudden change of mood. Chaehyun confirms that she does want to keep going, so you show her around the house, explaining the choice of details as you go. “It sounds like we put a lot into this house.” You nod. “We spent so much time planning and finding the stuff we wanted and needed.”

Just like you two agreed upon earlier, you’re ending the tour at the bathroom. “Last stop, love,” you say as you turn the handle. Chaehyun’s jaw drops when she sees the insides. “What the heck is all this?” You chuckle. “That bidet was your choice—everything else was mine,” you say. Chaehyun nudges you lightly with her elbow. “You’re pretty good at choosing things, aren’t you, love?”

Chaehyun takes a seat on the toilet which lid she has opened, and you take a knee in front of her. “We’ve been laughing a lot today, but life isn’t always so smooth, so please promise me that you’ll be patient and kind with me.” You take her hands in yours as you prepare to make your promise. “In every night I spent at the hospital with you, I wished I hadn’t broken your heart, so believe me when I say that I will work on becoming the man you deserved in the first place.”

Once again, the vow is tied with a kiss. “I love you, and I trust you,” she whispers. “I love you more, cookie.” Chaehyun giggles. “Cookie? Do I look edible?” Your mind directly goes to the old, dirty joke the two of you used to have about being edible, but you’re promptly reminded about the current situation. “I mean, you’re as sweet as a cookie,” you divert to a different answer.

You make to leave the bathroom so Chaehyun can take a shower, but before she lets you go, she asks if the two of you have ever taken a shower together in the past. “Of course, love; we’d always shower together after sex.” She breaks eye contact, trying to hide her red cheeks. “Ah, sex—of course we had sex.” You chuckle. “I mean, we’re legally-wed husband and wife”

-

Chaehyun needs to move her muscles to combat the muscle atrophy from her comatose, so you ask if she’s down to walk to get breakfast out. “Where will you take me, though?” You list a few breakfast spots the two of you have liked before, and she asks if you two can have breakfast at more than one spot. “Of course we can,” you say.

You help your wife get dressed, and since it’s quite cold today, you make sure she’s dressed comfortably. You can’t hide nor erase the smile on your face; it’s amazing to finally be able to see your wife in front of you again instead of lying in that hospital bed. “Erm, do I look weird?” You shake your head. “No, of course not—if anything, I think you look great.” Chaehyun blushes again, still not used to receiving praise. “Okay, I-I think we should go now.”

With her arm wrapped around yours, you begin making your way to the first spot (that is also the closest from the house) which Chaehyun used to love for their breakfast noodle soup. Instead of going straight at the intersection to head to the restaurant, you make a left turn. “I’m going to show you something first,” you say.

You drag Chaehyun into a small alley behind a convenience store, and you can tell she’s confused. “We had our first kiss in this alley,” you explain. She chuckles. “Why here, though—surely there were better places to have a first kiss in.” You laugh. “Sure, but you chose this place.” Chaehyun slaps her forehead while laughing. “I was so bad at thinking on the fly, wasn’t I?”

After the small tour, you get back on track and head to the noodle restaurant. The owner’s jaw drops when she sees you entering the place with Chaehyun. “She’s woken up?” You grin, unable to hide the joy on your face. “She sure has, Mrs. Oh.” Once again, Chaehyun is confused, but that doesn’t stop her from letting Mrs. Oh hug her. “Get anything you want—it’s on the house today.” It looks like Mrs. Oh is as happy as you are to have Chaehyun back. “Oh, please, that’s—” “No, I’m not taking arguments!”

Once seated, Chaehyun asks what kind of relationship the two of you had with the owner of the noodle place. “We used to have breakfast here at least twice a week.” You chuckle when you remember a particular detail. “We went here in the morning after we had our first sex,” you whisper to her. She slaps your shoulder lightly. “Can you please stop talking about sex?”

You haven’t ordered yet, but Mrs. Oh is already on her way with a tray of food in her hands. “You’re always down for the old favorite, aren’t you?” “Oh, absolutely,” you say. You help Mrs. Oh organize food on the table, and you notice the way Chaehyun’s eyes widen, seemingly intrigued by what’s in front of her. “Just holler if you need anything else,” Mrs. Oh says as she leaves your table.

“Whoa, what the heck is this?” Chaehyun looks at her bowl attentively. “They look good, don’t you think?” She nods. “I just know this is going to be so good,” she says. Your wife wastes little time to start digging into the noodles, and you swear you just hear a moan. “Oh, yeah, this is amazing,” she says.

It’s very heart-warming to see Chaehyun live life with such joyfulness after spending months seeing her stuck in a hospital bed. The thought alone is enough to make your eyes teary, and before you know it, a stray tear has flowed onto your cheek.

“Thank you for coming back, seriously,” you grip her free hand tightly, “you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” Despite being startled initially, Chaehyun puts down her utensils so she can hold your hands. “Let’s live each and every day like it’s our last, love—we don’t know how long we can love each other like this.”

Her words shatter whatever semblance of control you have left, thus making you shed more tears. You don’t want your tears to be seen by people, so you cover your face as you cry. Chaehyun moves her seat around the table and hugs you from the side. “You love me so much, don’t you, love?” You can only nod wordlessly. “I love you that much too, you know,” she adds.

-

“Is there any way I can look at the memories we’ve made together?”

“Nudle probably has backups of our pictures and things like that,” you guess.

Chaehyun asks if you know her passwords, and you happen to have a note on your phone which has a list of usernames and passwords. “I don’t know if you’ve changed your password, though.” She says that it’s still worth trying, so you lend her your laptop.

Nudle asks Chaehyun to enter the code it just sent to her number, but obviously she doesn’t have access to her old phone as it got destroyed during the crash. “Is there any other way to log in?” There is indeed another way, which is by having Nudle send a code to your email address that serves as a recovery email. “Yeah, do that," you say. A few taps here and there, and voila—Chaehyun now has access to her old Nudle account and the cloud services it offers.

“I want to look at our pictures,” she says. Chaehyun gasps when she sees the number of photos saved on Nudle Box. “Oh my God, there’s so many.” You laugh. “It was your idea to take pictures every time we did something fun.” She looks at you with a smirk. “I bet you’re thankful for that.” “Oh certainly,” you say. “Now we have a way to help you peek into the past.”

Chaehyun looks at each picture with a high level of attention, making odd head gestures as she does. “Is there something wrong?” She furrows her eyebrows. “It just feels so weird—there’s proof that I went there and did that, but I don’t remember anything.” You shrug. “That’s just amnesia, I suppose.”

You notice the way your wife’s eyes get teary as she scrolls through the pictures. “I-I’m so sorry,” she’s about to break down any time now, “I-I don’t remember any of this.” You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer to you. “It’s not your fault at all, sweetheart; we’ve talked about this.” “B-but I want to remember,” she argues. “Look at us, love—we looked so happy, no?”

You take a deep breath.

The picture that is displayed on the screen right now was taken at some point during a vacation to Switzerland, and you had had an argument with Chaehyun a few days before you left for vacation.

“We did, sweetheart, but it’s never all smiles and giggles with us; we’ve gone through tough times too, you know—times that I dare to say I’m grateful you’ve forgotten.”

“And whose fault is that?”

You’re stupefied.

It used to be Chaehyun who always had things to say, but it has always been you who escalated the conflict into full-blown arguments instead of directlyaddressing the issue.

“It’s mine, love—I’ve always been the bad guy for you.”

Chaehyun looks at you with wet eyes. “I want to love you the same way my old self has loved you, but you can’t treat me the same way you’ve treated my old self.” “I will treat you better—cross my heart,” you say, hoping that she can feel the sincerity. “You better, because I’m not going to give you a third chance.”

Chaehyun leaves the sofa, thus leaving you stuck in silence by yourself. Your eyes are fixed on the picture shown on the screen of the laptop. In it, you and your wife stood facing each other while smiling as if the two of you hadn’t fought a few days prior.

A part of you wonders if that’s what being hypocritical means, but the more you think about it, the more you realize that it’s just Chaehyun being so forgiving of your mistakes and shortcomings while you were too happy to be forgiven without even apologizing first.

“Love,” her voice snaps you out of your trance, “have a sip, please.” You take a sip of tea from the cup as asked. “Thank you,” you blurt. Chaehyun wraps her arms around you from behind. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to trip you with guilt.” You shake your head. “It’s not guilt-tripping if I’m really guilty.” “But you understood me, right?” You nod. “Yes, I did.”

Satisfied with your answer, Chaehyun gives you a peck to the top of your head. “I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.” You let your wife leave for the bedroom first while you sort yourself out. You think that this photo has a lot of meaning and lesson behind it, so before you turn off the laptop, you have it print the photo to be framed later.

You enter the bedroom with the printed photo in hand, and you see your wife sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze aimed out the window. She then turns her head to look at you. “What’s that,” she asks. Chaehyun chuckles when she sees the photo. “What are you doing with that?” You tell her about your intention to frame it and place it on the bedside table, and she expresses her approval.

Chaehyun lies on her side and asks that you hug her from behind, so you do so right away.

“What were our dreams, love?”

“We wanted this marriage to be something upon which we build our ever-lasting happiness,” you answer.

“So, what have we done to make that come true?”

“Well, you’ve always been so patient with me all the time, and now I’ve realized that you must’ve felt like you were the only one trying to hold on to this relationship while I took your kindness for granted.”

You hear a deep exhale from her.

“I don’t know what my old self felt like, but I know for sure that this version of Kim Chaehyun doesn’t want to feel that way, so please, please don’t repeat whatever mistake you’ve made in the past.”

“I understand, love.”

-

You enter the house after another day of work.

Your nose is immediately overwhelmed by the heavenly smell while sizzling noises enter your ears.

Your wife appears from the kitchen with an apron covering the front of her body. “Welcome home,” she greets you. “Sorry, I haven’t finished yet; I miscalculated the time.” You assure her that she has nothing to be sorry for. “Thank you for taking the time, love—you didn’t have to, you know,” you say.

Chaehyun reveals that this afternoon, she dug through the house to find things she could use to rediscover herself. At one point during the search, she found her old recipe book, sitting tidily on one of the bookshelves. She asks whose writings were in the book, so you tell her that she was the one taking notes based on a lot of references, classifying recipes based on their difficulty levels and types. “I had someone make a website that will contain your recipes, but it’s not completed yet,” you add.

Chaehyun invites you to look at what she’s cooking. “I know this,” you say. “This is the ramen and grilled chicken on page 26.” She bursts out laughing. “You even remember the page number, huh?” You chuckle. “Eh, I only remember those that we mark with stars.”

Your wife looks confused. “Stars? What stars?” You grab the book from the counter and use page 4 as an example. “See this?” You place a finger on the star located on the bottom right. “Pages that are marked with this star are our favorites, and among them, we each have a top 3.”

Drool starts pooling in your mouth when Chaehyun lifts the cooked chicken from the grill. “Oh my God, look that that,” you exclaim. “I can already tell that’s going to be so tender and juicy.” Your wife cuts the chicken swiftly into strips after placing it on the cutting board. “Cooking must be ingrained in her DNA,” you think.

After a chain of skillful movements, the food is presented beautifully and ready to be eaten. “Help me put this on the table, please?” You organize the bowls accordingly while Chaehyun gets some other stuff sorted. She then quickly joins you at the table, sitting right across from you.

Chaehyun asks you to try the food first. The first thing you do is to get some broth in a spoon and take a sip. “Oh, my goodness,” you melt into the chair, “oh my God, this is amazing.” Chaehyun doesn’t believe you; she thinks you’re exaggerating to make her feel good about herself. “I mean, you’re free to try it yourself.” Chaehyun does the same thing you did, and she also melts into the chair like you did. “So, do you believe me now?” She nods vehemently, amazed by the result of her own work. “It’s super good,” she says.

The two of you barely speak, too busy devouring the food in front of you. Before you know it, you’re down to the last bite.

“Oh, God, that was so good.” Chaehyun laughs at you. “Must’ve felt so good after not having home-cooked meal in a year,” she quips. “Absolutely,” you say. “It’s great to have you with me again, and I don’t care if I sound like a broken record.” Her soft hand meets yours. “Remember what I said about chances, okay?” You know right away what she’s referring to. “Of course; I’ve burned your words into memory.”

-

You find yourself lying in bed with your wife after dinner, spooning her from behind like usual. You’re reminded about something. “I’m super late, but happy birthday,” you say. “When is my birthday?” “The 26th of April, which also happened to be the day you woke up from coma.”

She turns around to face you. "What did we do on our birthdays, love?” You take a deep breath first. “We usually celebrate by having sex,” you say. Chaehyun doesn’t believe you, saying that you’re just horny after the special dinner. “I mean, I have proof.” She chuckles. “Of course you do.”

You show Chaehyun some pictures on your phone that are secured behind biometric locks. Her jaw drops; there’s a picture of her with your shaft between her lips taken two years ago, precisely on the 26th of April. Not only that, but there’s also a video, taken on the 5th of January (your birthday), that shows Chaehyun taking you in the ass from behind.

“See, I’m not lying,” you say. Her eyes are still locked on the screen. “We’ve done… anal?” Just remembering what happened that night arouses you. “Erm, yes, this was our first time trying it.” A mix of a sigh and a laugh flies out of her lips. “There’s no hole you’ve never used, huh?”

Chaehyun moves to sit on your lap. “So, are we doing it, or?” You gulp. “Do you want to?” She giggles. “It’s tradition, is it not—besides, you haven’t touched me at all since I came home.” Before you can say anything else, your wife undoes her hair bun, thus making you breathless. “Let’s do it, my dear husband.”

Your wife bends down to kiss you. “Her lips still taste the same,” you think. You’re delighted to see that Chaehyun doesn’t try pulling away from the kiss like she often did. “Did you miss me, by any chance?” She giggles. “Of course I did; you’re my husband—I can’t speak for other women, but I like my husband’s company.”

With her feelings about you confirmed, you pull her into another kiss. “Mm,” she mumbles. “I hope you kept yourself… clean while I was asleep.” You’re almost offended; you didn’t even dare touch yourself, let alone have another woman touch you. “Absolutely; only you are allowed to touch me,” you assure her.

A mysterious frown appears on her face.

“Then who the fuck is Choi Yujin?”

You almost burst out laughing; Choi Yujin is your sister-in-law, and if you remember correctly, she called you a few weeks ago to tell you about her and your brother’s plan to go on vacation. Also, it’s worth noting that Yujin has no reason to seek sexual pleasure from anyone but her husband.

“I really hope you’re not lying,” she says. You shake your head. “You can either take my words, or we can look at some pictures again.” She chuckles. “Just how many pictures do you have saved, love, hm?” You laugh a little. “Almost enough to tell our entire story.”

Chaehyun then tugs at the waistband of your shorts. “I want to look at you,” she says. “Feel free to strip me.” With your permission, your wife pushes your shorts down all the way, tossing them onto the floor after. She gulps when she sees the print of your shaft on your boxers. “And you took my innocence with this?” You nod. “We were each other’s first.”

Chaehyun decides that only looking at the outline of your cock isn’t enough; she wants to see the whole thing in its full glory. Your cock springs into stiffness, and she immediately takes it in her hands (because one hand just isn’t enough).

“Goodness me,” she exclaims as she begins stroking you. “I must’ve screamed a lot when you took my virginity.” You chuckle a little at the memory from that night. “Let’s just say the neighbors weren’t happy about the noises,” you say. “I bet they weren’t.”

Chaehyun moves around until her entrance is hovering closely over the tip of your shaft. “May I?” You nod, and with your green light, she lowers herself onto you. “Oh, God, you’re tearing me apart.” You wonder if it’s purely a coincidence that she says the same thing she did that night. “Thank you for the genes, dad.” Your small joke makes her let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, thank him for the genes.”

Chaehyun starts grinding her crotch against yours, moaning freely as she gets reacquainted with your size. She keeps taking deep breaths every now and then, showing signs of being overwhelmed. “Are you okay?” She nods weakly. “J-just lack of practice,” she says. Chaehyun jokes that you should’ve had sex with her during her coma so that her vaginal muscles didn’t forget you. “Yeah, well, they would’ve sent me to prison without bothering to make a stop at the court.”

Having felt comfortable after a few minutes, Chaehyun begins moving her hips slowly up and down along your length. “Take it easy, baby; there’s no need to rush.” She nods to your reminder, but you can see in her eyes that she wants to go fast sooner than later—the same look of passion from her previous life.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Those four words turn out to be the spark she needs to ignite the fire in her heart: she’s now moving faster and in turn, moaning louder than before. “You’re amazing at this, aren’t you?” She can’t say anything back; your cock that’s lodged in her tight lips is overwhelming her brain.

Exhaustion leads her to plopping down onto your torso, and you do your best to whisper affirmations and sweet nothings while she’s close to you. “I-I love you too,” she whispers back. “H-how many times have we done this?”

You do the calculation in your head: your regular sex schedule was twice—sometimes thrice—a week. Take that number and multiply by the number of years you’ve been married (minus a year because of her comatose) and add the extra celebratory sessions, it totals almost 500.

“You’ve stretched me agape 500 times, huh?” You laugh. “Ah, also, that number doesn’t include the anal and other naughty sessions.” She slaps you on the chest. “I got it the first time; you’ve used all my holes.” You pinch her waist lightly. “I don’t like the word use; everything we did was with our mutual consent.”

Chaehyun lifts her head to look at you. “I want to feel you in my anus again—I consent, so don’t worry.” Your eyebrows furrow. “We’re going all the way this quickly?” She pauses momentarily. “Well, I… don’t know.” You rub her cheek softly. “We have plenty of time, my love—there’s no need to have all the fun right now.”

After the short pause, Chaehyun expresses her desire to start again but says that she’s too tired to ride you to completion. “Let’s do it the old-fashioned way,” you say. You roll over until you’re on top of her, resting your chest on her plump breasts. “I won’t lie, I miss these.” You squeeze her tits, thus earning some soft moans from her. “I-I can tell,” she replies.

You ask for her permission to put your mouth on her tits. “Go on, then,” she urges you. Chaehyun gasps when your lips meet her breast, going as far as arching her back. “Yes, daddy.” The shock puts you to a sudden halt—surely not, right? “What’s that?” Her cheeks are painted red. “D-daddy,” she repeats shyly. “How did you… when did you… what?”

Chaehyun hides her red-as-tomato face behind her palms. She then proceeds to explain (while stuttering) that she found a little diary which had a brown leather cover in a drawer in the wardrobe. “Brown?” Your mind scrambles to figure out what diary she’s referring to. “Wait, what did the cover say?” “Erm, it said sex-capades.” Your suspicion is confirmed; she found the old sex diary the two of you used to maintain.

You chuckle. “How much of it did you read?” “N-not much, j-just a few pages.” You softly guide her palms off her face. “We’ve always been so into each other, sexually speaking.” She still can’t look at you in the eyes. “S-some of the entries sounded like porn, though.” You laugh. “Like the daddy kink?” She nods. “What if I told you that it was your idea, love, hm?” Her blush thickens. “T-then I must’ve been very… naughty.”

You turn your focus back on the intimacy of vanilla sex, moving your hips back and forth slowly to fully enjoy the way her tight walls are hugging your shaft. “My love,” she calls to you breathily. “You’re so good—you make me feel so good.” You’ve missed this type of affirmation from your wife. “You’re also making me feel so good, baby,” you return her words.

You straighten your posture as you prepare to pick up the pace, but before you start, “Love, we’re going to finish this soon, if that’s okay with you.” She nods, saying that she’s also not too far off from her own finish line. “Make me scream your name,” she adds.

Chaehyun’s eyes widen when she sees you put her ankles on your shoulders. “Y-you’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” You smile. “Something like that.” She gulps to swallow the nervousness that’s stuck in her throat. “I-I surrender myself to you, my love,” she declares. “Just… don’t hurt me too much, please.”

You opt to start slowly at first and then gradually pick up the pace as you go while keeping an eye on your wife’s reactions. You indeed don’t want to put too much pressure on your wife. “So far so good, right?” She nods. “I-I’m going to be so sore.” You chuckle. “Well, the good thing is, you don’t need to leave the house.”

When you reach maximum pace, Chaehyun’s moans get louder. The high level of stimulation has her gripping and scratching the sheets as she’s getting overwhelmed by you. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You’ve missed hearing her curse during sex. Not only are you delighted with it, but you’re also proud of yourself because you’re still able to perform well in bed.

“Close, darling?” You weren’t looking at her face when you said it, and now that you do, you see that she’s not able to answer: her teary eyes are rolling backwards, and her mouth is stuck open (with drool dripping down the corners of her lips).

“Love, are you okay?” You pause for a moment to check on her. She weakly lifts a hand and shows you a thumbs-up. “Too much?” Chaehyun nods weakly. “F-finish it, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

You return to your previous pace, only this time, you’re paying more attention to your wife. “Not too long now, sweetie,” you announce as orgasm approaches. When your cock starts throbbing wildly, you stick it as deep as you can into her and just… let go.

“Oh, God, baby,” you blurt breathlessly. You then quickly pull out your cock, not caring whether it leaks onto the bed, and pull her into your arms. “God, I’m so sorry, love.” She grunts a little. “I-it’s okay—I-I’m just… tired.”

You keep her in a cuddle for minutes until she regains a bit of strength. “H-have we always been this crazy?” You sigh. “Not all the time, no; it’s just that I’ve missed us so much.” A small smile appears on her face. “I-I suppose that’s fair, then.”

-

You lower your wife carefully into the bathtub that’s partially filled with warm water. With her leaning against yours, you help her clean up the front part of her body, making sure your touch is gentle throughout the process.

“Love, can you say anything, please,” you inquire. You hear a deep sigh from her. “I’m sore,” she says. “I feel like there’s a hole between my legs.” You apologize for being too rough on her first sex after her return, and she accepts it.

“You said you didn’t even touch yourself?”

“No, I didn’t; I felt like that would equal to betraying you.”

Chaehyun chuckles. “Well, I suppose that’s fair, then.”

Chaehyun proceeds to ask about the diaries she found this afternoon. “Love, who is Lee Jungwon—I saw that name a few times.” You sigh. “It was only a matter of time until you ask about him.” Your response leaves Chaehyun puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Lee Jungwon was the man your father wanted you to marry, but obviously, you ended up with me.” Chaehyun’s forehead furrows in confusion. “No offense to you, love, but why didn’t I marry him?” You sigh again. “He, erm—well, let’s just say he had done some less-manly things to you.” She starts getting nervous. “Like what?”

You close your eyes as you prepare an answer for her, taking a few deep breaths as you judge whether you should make it light or not. Eventually, you decide that it’s likely best that she hears about everything.

“Love, you didn’t exactly lose your innocence to me; you had lost it a year prior to Lee Jungwon—he, erm, he had forced himself onto you.” Chaehyun is stunned. “How did that happen, though?" You try to stay composed in front of her. “He had tricked you into going out with him, and when you were drunk, he, erm, did that.”

Your wife bursts into tears, and you’re starting to regret answering the question this way. You guess that explaining further will only hurt her more, so you choose to stay quiet for now. You’re not just sitting there, though; your hand is still rubbing her belly gently to help her calm down.

You let Chaehyun cry to her heart’s content, but it doesn’t seem like she will stop so soon. “He’s been in prison for a few years now—I hope that makes you feel better.” She shakes her head. She says that she’s more concerned about losing her first to a man like that instead of you, her legally wed husband.

Her words force yet another sigh out of you. “Your father was adamant that we got married so that no one else would’ve known about your predicament.” The water in the tub splashes around as Chaehyun turns around to face you. “But you didn’t marry me out of pity, did you?” “No, absolutely not—I love you, you know,” you assure her. “I had been keeping a secret crush on you, and when your father told me about the change of plan, I was over the moon.” “Y-you—” A sniffle interrupts her. “Y-you had other options and still chose me?” You tell her that you had no one else; for you, it was Kim Chaehyun or live alone until you die.

Chaehyun crashes into your body for a hug.

“I-I’m so sorry, my love.”

“No, love, it wasn’t your fault at all.”

“B-but—”

You cut her off by kissing her.

“Not your fault, love,” you repeat. “None of this was your fault.”

-

You’re now back in bed after that eventful shower, spooning her from behind like usual.

“My love,” she calls to you, “can we burn those diaries?” It sounds like a decent idea, but at the same time, Chaehyun won’t be able to look at the history of your relationship. “I don’t care about the past,” she says. “I’m offering you my future—a blank slate, if you will.”

You ask if she wants to burn down the brown sex diary as well. “Well, no,” she chuckles, “I need that one for… research.” You chuckle as you try to not get aroused again. “Alright, I guess we can get rid of the rest, then.”

Chaehyun turns around to face you. “Speaking of the sex diary, can we try something next time?” Your eyebrows rise. “Can I get a spoiler?” She taps her chin as if seriously considering giving you a sneak peek. “I’ll just say I got it from page 5.” You don’t remember the content of this diary as you do the recipe book, but when you ask further, her cheeks turn deep red. “Yeah, okay, then; I’m down to do whatever it is.” Chaehyun gives you a fleeting kiss before turning around again.

“We’ll have a lot of fun, I promise.”

[tooearlyforthis]

Secret's Out

Pairing: !bfSteve Harrington x Reader

Synopsis: (2.4k wc) The kids have been telling Steve for months to start dating and that doesn't change when a new girl walks into Family Video. Little do they know, he's already dating her.

Warnings: fluff, secret relationship

masterlist || steve harrington taglist

Hello it's been a minute! I haven't had the urge to write in a while but somehow was able to get this out haha. Enjoy!

“Why didn’t you ask her out?” 

Why didn’t he ask her out…that was the question that had been stalking Steve for the past five months. Every time a woman came into Family Video, any time he walked past a pretty girl at the movies. Someone always asked the question: Why didn’t you ask her out?

It didn’t matter who he was with; Robin, Dustin, or even little Erica. The question found a way of coming up. He didn’t blame them in the early days. Robin had gotten used to his constant flirting with customers, spending most of their shared shifts complaining about it. But then one day, it all stopped. No more flirting, no more dates, no more suave Steve Harrington.

To say his friends found it odd was an understatement. Almost everyone he had gone out with for a solid year had been entertainment for his friends. It became a running joke that Nancy had taken away his ability to get any girl or go on more than one date with one. So they became concerned when it all stopped one random day in March.

They asked the question out of worry over anything else. Worried that their dear friend Steve was hiding something important, wanting to make sure he was okay. Dustin especially knew how Steve could withdraw from the group when something was wrong, spending more days at home alone than out with the party. 

But that wasn’t the case, quite the opposite. 

“Why didn’t you ask her out?” Dustin asked. He was leaning over the counter at Family Video. His feet barely touched the floor as he tried to hold himself up by his arms. 

Steve sighed as he placed the last of the cash in the register. Another girl had come in for some romance movie, and Steve didn’t even try to make a move. Instead, when the girl reached forward to pay with cash, her fingers lingering over his, he retreated his hand quickly. 

“Not my type,” Steve said, not looking up at Dustin. 

“Bullshit, I saw you ask a girl out like that when you and Robin were working at Scoops. She's your type.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man, I didn’t wanna ask her out!” 

The bell at the front of the store rang out, indicating a new customer. Steve looked toward the door as the last of the words left his mouth. He froze when he saw who it was. Y/n, the love of his life, the one he had been hiding from his friends for almost five months. She looked as beautiful as the first time he had seen her browsing records at the local shop on Main Street. 

Dustin craned his neck to see what had left his friend so starstruck, and when he saw Y/n, he did everything except roll his eyes. “Okay, you’re practically drooling over that girl. Why don’t you ask her out?”

The comment brought Steve back to reality, watching as Y/n tried to hide her smile and turn down an aisle of movies. “Uh, no man, I’m good,” Steve told Dustin.

Dustin groaned, practically throwing himself on the front counter. “That is bullshit and you know it!” 

It was bullshit. The most bullshit he had ever said in his life. The moment he saw her in the record store five months prior, it was like a magnet had pulled them together. Glances from across the store, blush not hiding from their cheeks, they inched closer and closer until finally colliding. Yes, literally colliding, in front of the new releases section. 

“Sorry,” Steve said, a chuckle escaping his lips. “I must be really clumsy today.”

Y/n giggled right back, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “No it’s okay I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She was gripping a twelve-inch in her other hand, looking down at the floor. It was clear neither of them wanted the conversation to end and Steve had no plans to do so. 

“Stacey Q…I don’t think I’ve heard of her before,” he said, motioning to the record in her hands.

Y/n glanced down too, before looking back up at him. He almost got lost in her eyes, and the softness they showed him. “Uh, yeah me neither. But my friend recommended it, so here I am.”

Steve nodded along, going to rest against the carton of records but pulled away at the last second, realizing how bad it would be for the vinyl. He felt like such a clutz, making a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl. But then she giggled, that infectious giggle that he would come to pull out of her in the following months, as he knew he still had a shot.

“I uh, I haven’t seen you around here before, in Hawkins I mean,” he choked up.

Y/n shook her head. “Just moved here, I’m from the west coast.”

He raised his eyebrows. “The west coast? Must get a lot of sun out there.”

“Oh so much,” She continued. “Too much if I’m being honest…I’m Y/n by the way.”

She extended her hand out for him to shake and Steve reached out to grip it immediately. As he shook her hand he gave out his own name. “Would you wanna grab coffee at the diner across the street? You can tell me more about the west coast and I can tell you about how much you’ll miss it after moving to Indiana.” 

Y/n laughed again, but in the type of way that Steve knew he hadn’t fucked up this interaction. “Yeah, I’d like that.” For a moment she looked up at him with a smile he couldn’t stop thinking about. But then her eyes flickered down and he realized that he had still been shaking her hand.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, pulling it back and moving to fix his hair. He always fixed his hair when he was nervous. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Let me just pay for this and we can head over?” 

All Steve could do was nod, watching as she walked toward the register. How had he fumbled so hard and still gotten a date? If that was any other girl in Hawkins, she would have been out the door before he could say a word. 

Steve waited near the front door for her, watching as Y/n looked back around her shoulder while checking out to make sure he hadn’t gone, each time with a smile that Steve swore was melting his heart by the second. 

He knew even then that she would be the best thing that would ever happen to him. And he was right, which was why all of the secrecy. 

Y/n had been busy with work since the moment she arrived and Steve had the noisiest friend group in all of the midwest, so it seemed almost natural to keep their relationship on the downlow. 

That still didn’t stop Dustin from trying to set him up.

“Why are you like this?” Dustin’s question brought Steve back to the present. 

He sighed as he sat down on a stool behind the front counter. “Like what?”

“All opposed to dating?” Dustin said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What happened to getting over Nancy, going on dates, finding the one?”

“You think I’m not over Nancy?”

He was deflecting and Dustin knew it. “Not the point, Steve! Ever since March it’s like you’ve sworn off girls. It’s sad that I have a girlfriend and you don’t.”

He scrunched his eyebrows. “Hey! Being in a relationship isn’t everything you know.”

“Oh I know that,” Dustin said. “But to you, Mr. Harrington, it’s like single isn’t in your vocabulary, at least it wasn’t until, like, March.”

Maybe Steve had dragged out this secret for too long. His friends were concerned for him, albeit more concerned than they should be. But Steve was happy, in the best, healthiest relationship in his life. Maybe it was time to come clean. 

He looked up across the video store, scanning to see where Y/n had walked off toward. He spotted her quickly in the romance section, peeking out from behind a corner. He could tell she was blushing even from behind the shelf of tapes. 

A plan forming in his head, Steve turned back to Dustin. “If I ask for her number, you have to shut up about my dating life, forever. Not another peep.”

“Yes! Totally!” Dustin said eagerly. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Steve rolled his eyes and stood up from the stool, making his way over to where his girlfriend was browsing. 

“Hey,” she said as he approached. “I thought you were working along today I wouldn’t have come if I thought--”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted. “In fact, I was thinking maybe it was about time we let the cat out of the bag.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “Really? I meant I know how much you liked keeping this between us and with my work schedule it’s not like I’ll be seeing your friends often.”

“I’m sure,” he said, reaching for one of her hands. She dropped it to her side, letting his fingers gently brush over the back of her hand. “And I want you to meet them all properly but I wanna shut that little twerp up so badly right now.”

Y/n looked briefly over at where Dustin was sitting. The kid looked away quickly, pretending like he wasn’t paying attention. She laughed, looking back up at her boyfriend. “Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“Oh I can think of a million ways.” Y/n giggled. “But I think for now I’ll settle for a kiss.”

“That I can help with.”

With her other hand, Y/n put down the tape she was holding and then brought it up to rest on Steve’s jaw. She leaned forward and slowly planted her lips on top of his. It was a sweet kiss, no need to do more in the sanctity of a video store, but she was sure to make it drag out. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his arms grip either side of her waist. 

On the other side of the store, Dustin’s jaw was on the floor. 

He stood shocked at what he was seeing. Here was a guy that fumbled through every pickup line since his breakup with Nancy Wheeler, and now he was locking lips with a stranger in record time. 

The bell of the video store rang but Dustin couldn’t pull his eyes away from the scene in front of him. That girl was hot, there was no denying it and was so out of Steve’s league. But with the desire to see him happy, Dustin sent his friend over there anyway. 

“What are you looking at?” asked a voice. Dustin didn’t look away, knowing it was Mike who asked the question. He had just walked in with Lucas and Max. Dustin was supposed to pick up a movie for them but he guessed his annoying Steve went longer than he expected. Dustin couldn’t even muster words, just point to where Steve was locking lips with a total stranger. 

“Holy smokes!” Lucas exclaimed. His voice echoed across the store, making Steve and Y/n pull back. Steve guessed they had more of an audience than he intended. 

Taking his girlfriend's hand he asked, “Wanna meet the little shits that I look after?”

“Sure,” she said through a laugh. 

Steve turned to look back at Dustin for the first time since walking over, finding that the other little shits he looked after had joined him. Well, the more people there now, the less he would have to tell later. His hand was still gripping Y/n’s as they walked over, and Steve beamed at the shock look on Dustin’s face. 

“How did you-” Dustin began, but stopped, not being able to comprehend what happened. 

Lucas chimed in. “She’s way out of your league,” he said, earning a smack on his arm from Max. He yelped in surprise. 

“Twerps,” Steve addressed, “This is Y/n, my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend!” Dustin shouted with a gasp. “Since when?”

“Uh since March?” Y/n said, trying to think back to the start of their relationship. “Nice to meet you guys. I've heard a lot about you.”

“March?” Mike asked. “You’ve had a girlfriend since March and we didn’t know?”

Max rolled her eyes. “You guys just don’t pay attention. El and I knew so long ago.”

“You knew?” Steve asked. 

She shrugged her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest. “We made an educated guess. And we were right.”

“You must be Max,” Y/n said, pointing out the fiery girl from personality alone. She turned to Dustin and his curly hair. “And Dustin. Mike.. and Lucas?”

“Wow, you’re good,” Mike said. 

Y/n giggled at the young teens words. She leaned into Steve’s side just a little more, her head bumping with his shoulder. 

“How about once my shift’s done we take these little twerps out for some food?” Steve asked her.

She hummed in agreement. “Food sounds good.”

“Only if you're buying!” Dustin exclaimed, pointing a finger at Steve.

Steve pointed a finger back. “Only if you keep your end of the bargain.”

“You tricked me!”

“And yet, Max figured it out.”

Dustin shot a glare toward the red head. His eyes filled with annoyance. She only shrugged and said, “It’s not my fault you’re oblivious.”

Dusting turned back to Steve, Y/n still leaning into his side. He let his shoulders relax with a sigh, his head dropping back with defeat. “Fine! I’ll shut up.”

“I call the front seat!” Lucas called out.

Mike groaned, heading for the door in an attempt to beat his friends. “No fair you got it last time!”

Steve put up his hands in an attempt to quiet them. “Hey twerps I’ve still got an hour and a half left of my shift. Besides,” he turned to his girlfriend. “Y/n gets passenger side.”

Dustin and the rest of the young teens groaned. “Is this how it's gonna be from now on?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a smile, hugging Y/n closer to him. “That’s how it’s gonna be.”

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @halflifejess @nix-rose @palmtreesx3 @cilliansnostolgia @sweetdazequeen @blckburd @hollandweather

[sweetdispatch]

Who’s the boy? - C. Bedard

Next door hearts

pairing: Connor Bedard x Hughes!reader

summary: It's summer time and you need to face your brothers and admit to them who's your mysterious boyfriend

warning: swear word

words: 1.4k

note: finally the longer version! feel free to send more ideas to this AU🧸

---

Knowing that you’re gonna return to Chicago, you packed only essentials. All the clothes have at home and there’s no need to bring more. You were thankful that your parents helped you to rent an apartment and you don’t have to take all your belongings back home to bring them back after summer. Connor drove you to the airport and you felt bizarre. It was the first time in the 5 months since you knew each other you'll be apart for more than two weeks. 

“I don’t know if I want to go home” You admitted and Connor looked at you surprised.

“Why? I thought you miss your family” 

“I do but… I would love to spend these free months with you without worrying about our schedules” You sighed. 

“Hey” Connor grabbed your hand. “We’ll be back together soon. You can’t prioritisering me over your family. Look, you have to return in the middle of August to Chicago, I’ll fly there too and we can spent my last free weeks together” 

“I can’t ask you to do that. You have to spend as much time as you have with your family” You protested.

“It’s my decision and I already made up my mind about it” Connor said and you laughed.

“You’re ridiculous” You looked at him with love in your eyes. 

You walked out of the car and Connor went to grab your suitcase. You hugged him tightly and kissed him goodbye. You knew that you two would talk every single day for the next couple of months but you still didn’t want to leave him. You were well aware that you’ll miss him but that was also a learning experience for you. The whole time you were in the plane, you were thinking about your relationship with Connor and how to tell it to your brothers.

Thankfully, your parents came to pick you up from the airport and not your brothers. You ran towards them and hugged them. In all the craziness, you forgot about your parents and how much you missed them. You were excited to cook with your mom and golf with your dad. In the car, you break the news to them.

“I met a guy in Chicago and he asked me to be his girlfriend so basically I’m in a relationship” You said and your mum turned to face you.

“That’s amazing sweetie! Why didn't you bring him with you?” You mum asked and before you could answer your dad spoke. 

“I bet he’s a hockey player since you were working for them” You knew he said this as a joke but he was right.

“He is a hockey player and he wanted to spend time with his family” The car stopped at a red light and your dad turned to face you.

“Which one?” He said and you couldn’t recognize his voice. 

“Connor Bedard” Your dad turned away his eyes back on the road. “Are you mad?”

“No, I’m happy for you…” Before he could finish, your mum spoke.

“We’re happy for you and we can’t wait to meet him. Did you tell your brothers?”

“No and I’m scared to do it. You know how protective they are” Your mum laughed. 

“That’s their job, they’re your brothers and they don’t want you to get hurt” 

“I know, can you not tell them? I want to do it by myself when the time is right” 

“Sure sweetie but it’s better to do it fast before they’ll figure it out by themselves” Your mum said and you nodded. 

The rest of the drive you were telling your parents about Chicago and how life looks there. Before you could see, you already parked in the driveway and you left the car. You took a deep breath and walked into the house. Your brothers ran to the door to question you about your last instagram post but your mum stopped them. 

“Give her a break, she just arrived” You smiled at her and took your suitcase to your room. 

You laid in the bed and started thinking about how to break the news to your brothers. For now, you decided to keep your mouth shut. You thought to yourself that tomorrow you’ll tell them about everything. For now, you need to rest. You send a quick message to Connor that you’re at home. 

The next day, you woke up and decided to go for a run. It was your tradition during summer. Around 9AM, you left the house and after an hour you returned. You saw that your parents' car is not in the driveway which meant you’re alone with your brothers. The first thing after you opened the door was the smell of breakfast. Your brothers are up and you can’t escape them. Slowly, you walked into the kitchen and felt all eyes on you. 

“How was Chicago?” That's the first question you heard from Quinn when you entered the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. You took a sip before you spoke.

“Great! I love the city and the job and…” You didn't finish your sentence because Jack interrupted you.

“Later you’ll tell us about it. We have more important things to discuss. What does the caption mean under your post?” Jack asked you.

“Umm… I meant that I fell in love with the city” You lied and judging by their faces, you knew they’re not buying this.

“Bullshit, tell the truth” Luke said and you were surprised at this outburst. You expected this from Jack, even Quinn but not Luke.

“Okay I have a boyfriend. Happy?” You were done with this conversation already and it hasn't even started. You walked out and started going upstairs. Your brothers followed you.

“Who’s the boy?” Quinn asked you and you took a deep breath.

“He’s my neighbour, his name is Connor” You told them, trying not to share the news that he’s a hockey player and keep it simple thinking that they’ll drop the topic. You entered your room to take clothes. 

“Like Connor Bedard? The one from the Blackhawks?” Jack asked you and you cursed under your nose. Of course they’ll connect that you said to them that you live next to the hockey player and work with the team.

“Yes” You confirmed and turned away to go into the bathroom.

“I’m cool with that” Luke replied and you looked shocked at him. That was not the reaction you expected from him, especially after his outburst earlier.

“Me too, he looks like a good guy” Quinn said it back and you froze in spot. You expected screaming from their side and they just accepted it. This felt bizarre for you.

“He better treat you right or I won’t be too careful on the ice towards him” Jack said and you laughed. Now that was the reaction you expected. 

“I’ll tell him that but Connor is treating me right. We’ve been friends for the past 5 months before he asked me to be his girlfriend. Actually he planned a super cute day for me before he even asked me the question. I’ve never been in such awe of a man” You replied, still replaying the day in your head.

“That's the most important thing, but as Jack said, he better not hurt you because we might not be too careful on the ice next time playing against Chicago” Quinn said and hugged you. You smiled, grateful that your brothers accepted Connor but also scared of them playing against Blackhawks next season. 

“Thanks guys, I appreciate it” You smiled at them. It wasn’t as scary as you thought. Went better than expected. 

“When can we meet him?” Jack asked out of nowhere. 

“Probably during the season” 

“Invite him over here, we need to meet him” Quinn said and you didn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t want to take away his time with his family” 

“Just a weekend. I bet he’ll be happy to see you” Jack said and you thought about it for a minute.

“I’ll talk with him later, okay?” All three of them nodded. “Can I take a shower now?” 

“Yes but don’t you think that you’ll get away with telling us how Chicago had been treating you” Luke replied and all of them left your room. You smiled to yourself.

[rainytapestry]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ★ㅤㅤi love you, im sorry ㅤ ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

summary. two oblivious friends and the 3 words left unspoken.

aka inspired from the prompt “you’ve been talking about this crush for months now, when are you going to just go for it?” “i don’t think i can…” by @novelbear

pairing. jake x f!readerㅤ

wc. 2k

genre. fluff , crush to friends to lovers , college au , (mutual?)pining , jake is just dumb , hee is a brat(affectionate) , jealousy(??) , apparent one sided crush

warnings. profanity , not proof read , crusty aah writing , fries dipped in coke , drinking (like once)

notes. hi this is my first work on this account and i havent written anything in almost a year lmao so pls bear w me :"3 this was a word vomit and i have no idea what i yapped in the ending so :D!? happy reading ^0^

‘So, how’s it going with him?’ Jake asks as he places his lunch tray beside yours at the college cafeteria. You look up from your phone to meet his hopeful eyes, ‘who…?’ ‘Omg, Y/N, your crush!? You’ve been talking about this crush for months now, when are you going to just go for it?’

You almost choke on your coffee, from when did Jake have such an interest in your so-called crush. The “mystery guy” as your friend group likes to call him. Little did they know that the boy in question was sitting right beside you and yeah, it wouldn’t be the wisest decision to let that out.

‘I… don’t think I can’, you answered hesitantly, that was the closest to the truth you could give Jake and you hated lying to your friend, especially when feelings were involved, feelings involving… him.

Maybe if you weren’t so close with him, it would have been easier to handle the overwhelming urge to confess to him, hold his hand and softly kiss his cheek. But life was definitely playing a cruel joke on you when your small hallway crush turned out to be your seatmate in freshman year, two years ago.

It was almost impossible not to be friends with Jake from then on. You found yourself talking to each other in class, which eventually led to exchanging numbers and the rest was history. He had this inborn kindness in him, which perfectly complemented his pretty face, the happiness that radiated off him was quite infectious. And with each day that you got to know him, you fell a little more in love with him.

'C'mon Y/N, it's worth a try plus most chances are he'd like you back, right?' you dont, Jake. 'Plus, I'm always here in case of any help. I know our friends may keep making jokes on it but I totally understand you', he ends with a small shy smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, you don't know why.

But you want to scream at his face STOP! Stop making it so hard for me to move on, Jake. Instead you return his smile, or at least you try, before quickly stuffing your face with your lunch, making it impossible for him to continue the previous conversation. Talk about healthy coping mechanisms...?

The slip up had just been a drunken mistake. It was one of those stupid drinking games Yunjin had roped you into and soon enough, you were mildly intoxicated or just way too lovesick to admit to your crush. You couldn't ignore the bitterness in your stomach every time a girl approached Jake at the party.

‘Okay, Y/N, drink up if you like someone present here’, Sunghoon passed you a mischievous smirk, which oddly enraged you, or maybe it was the alcohol already in your system. Before you knew it, you were drowning down the cup in your hand, gripping it tightly as if that’ll give you an ounce of strength. You gave one glimpse at Jake who had a concerned expression on his face.

Someone else, probably Yunjin, excitedly asked, ‘Omg who?! And how do I not know?’

Since then it has been a challenge in your friend group to “search” for him if they ever felt bored. You wonder who else can ever attract such an unemployed friend group, it is honestly a bit funny to see them try.

Your train of thoughts is broken when you feel someone sitting beside you, it’s Heeseung. ‘You know, staring at him from afar won’t do any good’, he shrugs. Alarmed, you look at him motioning towards where Jake is currently playing on the football field. You often find yourself sitting at the bleachers, after class waiting for him.

‘Hey! What d-do you mean?!’ you sputter, totally caught off guard at his words. How does Heeseung even know? No, how can he even get the slightest idea that you like Jake? You thought your masking skills were actually pretty good.

The boy gave you a small chuckle, 'you really think you are very sneaky and nonchalant about your crush don’t you? I’m surprised how our friends and even Jake haven't caught up to it.’

This little shit. You hit him with one of your books. ‘Woah, stop, at least I haven’t exposed you in front of them!’ He raises his hands in defense.

Well, he does have a point. He could have won whatever bet your friends had going on you, but he didn’t. ‘Okay, fine, thank you Heeseung for your kind gracious favour’, you roll your eyes at him. ‘That’s more like it, brat.’ You stick out your tongue in return.

You rest your back on the bench, your eyes naturally following the brunette as he scores another goal, a small smile tugging at your face. ‘But in all honesty, I think there’s a hole on Jake’s back with the entire staring contest you have going on.’ ‘fuck off if you can’t help.’

Heeseung sighs, ‘the only advice for this is for you to confess, a relationship isn't gonna form itself.’ ‘He’s my friend, do you see everything on the line?’ ‘And do you see that he could possibly like you back?’ he raises his eyebrows.

Yeah, the false hope, being delusional did not seem like a fun choice right now. You would have pushed Heeseung out of the bleachers if it weren’t for Jake running towards both of you, a weird look on his face, ‘Why are my two friends strangling each other?’ he yells over the stands. Heeseung ruffles your hair, ‘Friendly banter! By the way, you two want to grab dinner with me? His practice is almost over too.’

Something in your gut tells you that Heeseung may be up to no good and the shit eating grin that follows his requests, probably confirms your suspicions.

But Jake beats you to the reply, ‘Of course, I’m kinda starving. I need my extra fries.’

Something shifts in the air once the three of you are out of the campus. For starters, Heeseung finds it very funny to annoy you and Jake has this distant look on his face from earlier. He’s also very quiet and Jake is never silent, especially with Heeseung.

Once you enter the restaurant, you and Jake take your places in a corner booth. You sit across from him. ‘Hey, was everything okay at uni? You seem down.’ He finally makes eye contact with you, you have no idea why he refused to meet your eyes before, ‘Yes, Y/N, just a little tired.’ He retreats back to his previous positions.

You nod, not convinced with his explanation when a thought comes up. Did he… hear you both?! Nonono, he can’t! You’ll be beyond cooked and losing a close friend must not be a nice feeling. Yeah, he most definitely did but you cannot lose your shit in public so you try distracting yourself. You nervously look around, hoping for Heeseung, who was at the counter, to finally come and break the silence.

Goodness, this thick uncomfortable silence or is it the greasy smell of fast food oil? No, it is definitely the silence between the both of you which is really unheard of in your relation.

You finally see a figure approaching, balancing the three orders, and a small grin on his face. ‘Here we go, people.’ he takes a seat beside you and Heeseung doesn’t miss the subtle change in Jake’s expression, smirking at the latter.

‘Omg, Y/N, you should try the fries dipped in coke.’ ‘you are fucking disgusting, Lee Heeseung, get away from me’, you scrunch your nose in disgust but not before the boy pushes some soaked fries at your direction, making you gag.

Seeing the exchange, Jake hastily picks up the fry, removing it, and instead replacing it with his normal, not soaked in coke fries. The insult you were about to hurl at Heeseung dies in your throat, looking up at the boy who is back to quietly eating his burger.

What has gotten into him?

'I'm so full', Heeseung stretches walking out of the place into the cool night air. 'Ok then, see yall later, I'll head this way', nodding his head. You bid him goodbye when he mouthes something you're unsure of. go. for. it. before giving sly smirk and walking off.

You stand confused in your place, and realize that Jake has been silent for so long. You turn around to see him already walking down the footpath. You sigh deeply, tired with his weird actions before catching up to him.

'Yah Jake hold up!' he hears your voice call out behind him, stopping on his tracks. You stop your jog, slightly catching your breath. 'No why the hell am I chasing you in the middle of the road? Please drop this act.'

He turns around abruptly, face to face with you and you realize the distance between the both of you, your heart picking up its pace. Jake's face is unreadable, his eyes are closed off and expresionless. You are about to ask another question when he– 'Is Heeseung the one you like?' His eyes seem dead set. Despite yourself, you can't help but break into a chuckle.

Were you reading the situation right? 'Help what?! Not that dumbass, hell no. You know for someone as smart as you, you really are oblivious.' And it all starts to click in, Jake's rough behavior, his distant stares, and the glares he was throwing at Heeseung.

'Are you... jealous?' You ask, trying to peer into his eyes for something... anything. Jake shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair, 'It's no problem if you date him obviously, he's good guy, plus I think you look really cute together and I want the best–' 'I like you', you blurt out in middle of Jake's long ramble, freezing in your place.

Did you just–?! No how did you mouth even speak without coordinating with your brain? Your eyes widening in shock, Jake's expression is pretty much the same (oh here goes your friendship) before you see the shift in his face. Shock slowly giving way to a more shy face.

'What...?' 'Um, sorry, I messed it up so bad didn't I?' You may as well confess now that he knows. 'I... have liked you for the longest time, Sim Jaehyun and it is not easy to hide all these feelings when you're standing right here. I know I'll probably mess up our entire friendship but I can't lose you.'

there. here comes the rejection. you shuffle in your feet, resisting the urge to dash in the opposite direction. 'Is this real?' he says instead.

You look up to face him and his face has broken into a bright smile, and suddenly it's hard for you to breath because why are you seeing your crush beaming at you when you just confessed your feelings.

Suddenly you feel a pair of lips on yours, catching you off guard. Oh this cannot be happening. You melt into the kiss immediately, reveling at the feeling. Your rapid heartbeat has stilled, almost in tandem with his.

This kiss is short lived but it leaves you feeling breathless. 'Are we seriously this dumb? I... I like you too', Jake's the one to break the silence, placing a hand on your cheek.

You feel a small flower bloom in your chest at his words. He tugs at your hands, pulling you close, into a hug.

Resting your face at the crook of his neck, you mutter, 'We're in the middle of the road, we should move.' Although the lanes were empty, save for a few passing cars.

'I know but I like it here', Jake says softly and you can almost see the pout forming. Yeah you'd stay this way forever if it meant never letting him go.

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated :D

work belongs to @ rainytapestry don't steal

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 1

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: Well, well, well, if it isn't another bad decision.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

The spectrum of city lights gleam through the window casting a soft glow over the lofty condo. Spacious and pristine, everything in exactly its place, even the shadows seem to assemble in orderly fashion along the pale wall. A fine contrast to your chaotic existence on the peripheral.  

You sit, staring down the treacherous drop. A single pane between you and the end. Your phone dims as it rests against the thumb grip, wires still woven from the port into the palm sized box. You can find anything on the dark web if you go deep enough. 

The alarm was easy enough to override with the device, you still feel a sliver of adrenaline. How your heart beats thunderously as you watch the screen race through columns of numbers. You expect a blaring siren, instead the door clicks and a low beep grants your entry. 

It's nothing bad. Not really. You’re tired of watching, of waiting, for what? You're not sure. It’s not as if you want him to notice you, you do your best to make sure he doesn't. Maybe one day when you're ready. Whatever that means. 

You shut the lights off once you get the photos, each room from every angle. So you have a reference to make sure everything's where it belongs when you go. Unlike you. 

You don’t belong here. Or anywhere. So you have no issue crossing those lines, because no matter where you step, you’re out of place. 

If anyone knew, they might think you've done this before. You’ve dreamed of it. Maybe, a bit too often. 

It's the online boards that make you so thorough, checking things you never even considered. Of course, those neckbeards are looking to scare some skinny blonde they don't have a chance with. You don't want to scare Steve, you just want to know him, if even from a distance. 

You always just watch. Is that so bad? You don't get in his way, you don't try anything, you just follow. 

Well, it's about time you came inside. You don't get much of a view from the outside. The reflection of the other buildings tend to make the distance further. A whole year and you don't know why you’ve waited so long. It’s not like he’ll know. 

You stand up and unplug your phone, turning on the flashlight as you point it ahead if you. You stop to admire the pictures framed and hung of him and his comrades, both old and new, dead and alive. You continue down the hall, back to the bedroom and peer around. 

You spread out on the bed. You can smell him, his sweat and the soap he uses. You know from his receipts. From skulking around behind him at the grocery stores you can’t afford to shop at.  

You close your eyes and imagine he's there with you. Watching you too. The two of you, peaceful, comfortable, like you've never been with anyone in your life. An indolent complicity. 

It’s lies. You know that’s not how it goes. If he knew about you, he’d be just as repulsed as any other guy. And you’re not the type for the sappy shit. You don’t want love, you just want a thrill. 

You put the phone down, the light glowing on the other side of your eyelids as it shines on the ceiling. You feel along your dark jeans and slide your fingers under your fly. You sigh as you feel yourself getting wet.  

You flick your clit and moan. You say his name and do it again, a steady motion as you wish he was there, hand down your pants as he fucks you with his fingers, reading a book as if he isn't rock hard over it. It must be extraordinary to have someone else touching you. It’s getting boring, just you. 

You cum quickly, surprised as usually you need your toys. More reliable than any man, you scoff and free your hands from the denim. 

You sit up slowly and wipe your cum on his pillow. Maybe he'll smell it, will he know what it is? Would he like it? 

You get up and stretch. You take your phone and check the time. You should go. He'll be home soon, you know he met his pal for drinks at seven. Funny, you were under the impression beer didn't affect enhanced beings. 

You go back to the living room and pack up. You plug in the cipher once more and head for the door. You re-arm the alarm and carry on down the hall. 

You stop at the elevator and wait. It opens and you suppress your surprise. Well, you’re not that shocked as his timing is always precise. Not to mention, he lives here. Steve Rogers hesitates before he gets off the elevator, blanching as he sees you.  

“Sorry,” he smiles at you. 

It’s not a real smile. It’s just his surprise. It’s courtesy. Steve fucking Rogers is high and above you. 

“It’s fine,” you say snidely as you stare at him dully. 

He only thinks to get off when his companion, Bucky Barnes, does first. You wait for them to pass you, the second man meeting your eyes as he passes. You see a spark of curiosity in his eye but it quickly dies. You’re not that interesting, especially at first glance. You rely on that. 

You step onto the elevator, nearly caught in the doors as you do. You turn to watch them walk down the hallway. They have no idea, you're just another faceless New Yorker. 

📷

It's weird, you think. Anyone else would be jealous to see the scene. They would crumple at the burning envy in their gut but you feel something much more intense. You're fucking horny. 

Your perch on the roof of the building a block from Steve's is bitter and blustery. You have the scope set up, cell phone in the holder, to align the lens. The red dot flashes to show that it's recording. 

You adjust the angle and zoom in on the screen. The set-up is simple enough once it's set up, if the app isn't a bit tedious. You take another drink from your thermos and huddle beneath your hoodie. 

You wish you could hear it. The slapping of flesh, the groans in his constricted throat, even the woman's airy breaths as she grips the back of the couch, teeth bared as Steve ruts from behind. America's golden boy getting his kicks from some bimbo he met down at the bar. Again. 

You want to be in her place. Or even just a bit closer. If it was you, it’d be a lot less predictable. He’ll finish, slap her ass, and send her off.  

You yawn as he grabs onto her shoulders, pulling her back gruffly as he rams into her hard. The aggression is what surprises. Steve Rogers is all smiles and sweet words for the cameras he knows are there, but behind closed doors, he’s brutal. The woman’s face contorts as the pain wracks her body.  

She doesn’t stop, lets him use her. Just like you would. If you even had a chance in hell, you’d lick his cum off the shield. Fuck, if he wasn’t obsessed with those barbie dolls, he might actually try something new. 

You don't hate her, don't feel an ounce of anger. She's doing you a favour, putting on a show just for you. An image you’ll never forget, that you’ll cherish on lonely nights. 

You shiver as heat nestles in your core. Your hand falls to your jeans, lingering just beneath your heavy parka. It’s too cold to do that now. You retract your arm and sigh. When you get home you’ll have to rewatch it with your favourite toy. 

Before your mind wanders too far, there’s a metal click and the loud clang of the bar across the other side of the door. Shit. You quickly grab your phone and collapse the tripod. You take down the lens and shove it all into the duffel, twisting the lid of your thermos tight and tossing it in before scooping up the unzipped bag. 

Footsteps scuff across the concrete roof as you scurry behind one of the wide chimneys and lean against the cinder block. You hold your breath as a man calls out, “hello?” he paces around, “someone out here?” 

Fuck! You put your head back. You won’t be coming back here again. It took you weeks to find the place and get the right angle, a good distance to keep from alerting Steve but not too far either. 

A flashlight casts a yellow light back and forth but doesn’t come close to you as you stay still. The man grunts and grumbles as his soles pad away and the door slams heavily. You wonder what gave you away. You disarmed the alarm on the door before you came up and no one passed you on the stairs. 

Maybe just a regular sweep by the building. You shrug and check the bag before zipping it up. You wait ten more minutes before going to the door and picking the lock. You assure yourself as you descend, you got more than enough to tide you over at least a couple weeks. 

📷

The cafe is busy enough to compound your insignificance. You’re hard to notice on a good day. A hoodie, jeans, just another body in the overcrowded city. You sit with a bottle of water and cookie you won’t eat, pretending to read as others are more obvious in their observation. 

Steve Rogers sits by the window, as if he wants to be seen, chatting over a steaming mug with the stalwart Bucky Barnes. Their conversation seems to frustrate the latter as several patrons interrupt them, asking for a picture or autograph to accompany their lattes and creamy frappucinos. As Steve acquiesces, Bucky leans back and crosses his arms, scowling as he refuses to engage. 

You grin. You kind of get the dude. You hate people, hate the city and the pedants looking for their fifteen minutes or living the delusion that their New York adventure is destined for greatness. You glance back at the page but your eyes don’t focus on the words. 

It’s why you can’t be with Steve. Why you don’t want to be. You just want to watch. You don’t like being noticed. Hate the idea of being watched. You’re not a part of the show, you like being just another faceless figure in the audience. 

Your eyes flick back up. Steve is back to leaning over his cup, an Americano, how fitting. His large hand punctuates whatever point he’s making as you admire the vein in his neck, just above his collar. 

You’re startled as Bucky rests his chin in his hand and you meet his gaze. You don’t react and hide behind the book again. Maybe a bit too obvious. 

You pretend to read for a few minutes then reach for your phone, checking the time. You should leave first. You close the book without marking the page and take your water and cookie and put it in your bag, the patched messenger showing its years. 

It rests against your hip as you stroll out, ignoring the super soldiers until you’re outside. You peek back as you pass the window and Bucky squints at you. What the fuck is his problem? You tuck your head down and continue down the sidewalk. You’ll have to be careful about him. 

📷

You close your journal and tuck it under your mattress. The bed takes up much of your bachelor apartment. You don’t mind the lack of space, it’s just you. It’s preferable to your previous roommates who assured you cohabitation is little more than a form of torture. 

You climb off the twin mattress and stretch as you go to the corner which constitutes your kitchen; a microwave above a compact stove, a fridge that looks straight out of the 60s, and a foot long countertop under a single cupboard. Not much but you often forget to eat as your mind overshadows any physical needs. 

You tear open a package of ramen and add water, shoving it in the nuke as you turn to lean against the counter. Your tall dresser holds most of your possessions, clothes, the pictures, your equipment, and a few toys. Nothing special, just like you. 

The microwave beeps and you put the bowl on the counter. You grab your phone and return, eating at the kitchenette as you slouch to keep from dribbling. You scroll through your phone, several alerts for Steve Rogers in the news. 

‘Cap’s UN Mission: Can he restore America’s repute on the international stage?’ You browse the article and a smile slowly forms as you forget your food and stand, lifting the phone as you search for more.  

The media really is dangerous, you muse. There are exact dates for the conference and Cap’s appearances. That means his place will be empty. It means you’ll be living it up, at least for a few days. 

📷

It’s been more than a month since your first visit to Steve’s apartment. Nothing’s changed and you feel a little less restless there. You know he won’t be back anytime soon so there’s no rush to do much more than bask in the remnants of his presence. 

You can still smell him on the bed sheets and his dirty clothes are still in the hamper. You sort through them, feeling them, sniffing a few shirts. You push the basket back into the corner and search the drawers of his nightstand. Lube, some porn magazines, relics really, and some random odds and ends.  

You go out to the front room and lay on the couch, flicking on the television. The Smithsonian channel. Predictable. You leave it there and watch the hour-long program on clockmaking. Riveting. 

You don’t pay much attention as you stare at the ceiling and think about him. It was that couch where he fucked her. On her knees, clinging to the back as he let loose his strength, not a care for her. You haven’t seen her since. She must’ve expected something different; maybe to be doted on. Pathetic. 

Your hand wanders along the edge of the cushion. Your fingertips brush fabric in the crease of the cushions and you sit up as you pull out the lacy thong. You hold it up and stand, looking down as you hang them against your jeans as if you were wearing them. For him. 

You scoff and bunch them up, tossing them behind the couch. Yeah right. You’re not some leggy blonde, you’re just you. You’d look stupid in something like that. 

Men always looked past you, through you. It’s why you didn’t bother. High school was a farce; shoved into lockers or chased out of school dances. And college, just an extension of the crushing social norms and ridiculous expectations.  

You kissed one guy in your sophomore year but he was worse off than you. You never saw him again after he came in pants just from having your tongue on his. Why would you want some dweeb like that? You’d rather settle for being alone than some freak. 

You sigh as you cross your arms and flop back on the couch. You think too much. This is supposed to be fun, so why does it make you feel so… alone? 

Reality splinters as your heart lurches. Shit. You hear a key in the lock and the sharp turn of the mechanism. Shit! You stand and panic as the door opens, too stunned to react as you trip over the leg of the chair as you try to hide too late. You hit your knees and look up at the figure in the entryway. 

“What the fuck?” the deep voice cuts through you. “Who the fuck are you?” 

Bucky comes into the room and stops short. He tilts his head as you stand, putting your palms out defensively, “look, I was just leav–” 

He’s barreling towards you and you stumble back frantically. He grabs the front of your hoodie and takes you off your feet as he shakes you, like a rat in the gutter. You grasp his thick wrists as you gape at him, speechless. 

“I know you,” he says as recognition wrinkles in his forehead, “I knew you were up to something.” 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you say. 

“Me? I’m watering the plants,” he spits, “what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Please, I swear, I wasn’t going to do anything–” 

“Shut up!” he snaps and shoves you into the leather chair, looming over you as he clenches the front of your sweater. 

“Let me go and I’ll never come back,” you beg and round your eyes and make your voice higher, just like you’ve seen other women do. You always looked younger than your age. “Please–” 

He scoffs and shakes his head, “I said, shut up.” 

His tone keeps any further plea muted. He glares at you, nostrils flaring as his thoughts swirl in his deep blue irises. He unfurls his fingers and draws his hands away rigidly as he stands straight. 

“Don’t fucking move,” he warns as he combs his fingers through his hair. He watches you for a moment before he looks around and grumbles under his breath, “don’t have the fucking time for this.” 

[genderqueerdykes]

The anon mentioning not wanting to cut hair is so so so real for that and I’ve been inspired to say something of my own by that ask.

I hate how almost every transmasculine resource always has some kind of heavy emphasis on the joy of cutting your hair short for the first time, especially if it’s talked about like this universal trans man experience that every trans man has, because it immediately has me questioning if I’m even a guy at all or if the community would ever see or accept me as one. Like if I don’t do this rite of passage then I’ll only ever be perceived as a woman or as some level of nonbinary (which both would technically be correct, but only like 10% of the time, the other 80% I am a dude).

Like yes, a lot of transmascs do want to cut their hair short and this is totally fine, but personally I love my long hair. I love putting it in high twin tails with bows and clips and everything else and in fact one day I’d like to have bangs with this as well. I like having it down and unstyled because I have natural curls and length that make me look like a metal band frontman when I do it. It’s been one of the only traits I’ve liked about my physical appearance for ages and it’s so disappointing to see everywhere go “want to be a man? Great! Cut off all of your hair—“ as like their main or only resource for passing or whatever. I get that it’s the easiest and most accessible option for most people. I get that it’s common for men to have short hair in certain cultures. But I don’t like the imperativeness of it. And I don’t like the assumption that everyone can do that or wants to do that and would pass after doing that. Having my hair short is like genuinely a nightmare scenario for me and I don’t like even thinking about it. It literally pushed back my discovering that I was trans seeing “cut your hair” being plastered as the first piece of advice on every website because kid me saw that and went “oh, trans men want that? I don’t want that, well I guess I must just be a woman then, idk why I’m so sad about that though”.

And then this along with this recent tumblr “Time To Pick a Group and Hate on Them” wave (familiar either tumblr’s tendency for this, I was young and seeing reposts on Pinterest about the whole Ace and Aro exclusionist shit, signed a very tired aroace) with the whole “it’s so much easier for transmascs to pass” thing— like it doesn’t help me much that I like wearing dresses and skirts and I’m fairly chubby, really short, and have big boobs. I have literal fucking I cups. 32 I. I don’t know how to exercise properly since I’ve always had trouble doing it whether I just tire super fast or can’t catch my breath, I can’t bind because my boobs are far too large and I have breathing problems, I can’t go get top surgery now or for the foreseeable future cause I’m stuck living with my unsupportive parents, I already dress fairly masc usually with oversized shirts and everything, and I already have a deep voice— none of this helps me pass whatsoever. If I were to chop my hair off it would do absolutely nothing to my 32 fucking I cups that everyone sees regardless of what I do about them. All it would do is make me sad about not having my hair. No it is not easier for me to pass and I’m not suddenly conforming to gender roles and appearance stereotypes now just to do it. Tbh it just makes me want to not pass even more out of spite. (although being out in this current political climate might not be the best idea at the moment so I’m waiting hopefully only about 4 ish years— that is if I leave this house by then, ok anyway—).

Like oh but “all transmascs have to do is put a flannel on and cut their hair” like 1. If I did that I’d look like my grandma and 2. I have been told my whole life I would basically never pass no matter what I do, what are y’all going on about. Like why is everyone’s idea of passing as a man “tall, slim, rectangle shaped, short hair”. Like, I’m not POC, but at a certain point I can’t help but think that this description is often times really white leaning. Like what about cultures that don’t cut their hair, would they never pass as a man for it? Are they being trans wrong? What about people who are kinda predisposed to being short or fat? And why the hell is the idea of what a GNC trans man looks like always a tiny, white, slender twink with maybe at most big thighs? Are you suddenly not a man if you look any other way and wear a skirt? Idk, fuck it, I’m doing whatever I want.

One day, I want to have top surgery and I want to stand outside in the summer with my twin tails shirtless and I just want to enjoy being outside like that. Idk, I just wish it was more accepted to be anything GNC while still being trans and not being the “ideal” and I wish actual resources for trans issues acknowledged that you can still be GNC more often.

Tangentially related, but it’s really helped me out just getting into a game where a lot of the male characters are pretty GNC in dress and stuff. Like my favorite game series rn, Castlevania, has this character, Simon Belmont, and he’s got long hair, he’s built really hourglass shaped and has big hips, and he wears this tiny mini skirt tunic dress all the time and there’s no official canon design of him ever wearing pants and like, man, it just makes me so happy. Especially cause he used to be the main face of the series for a really long time— and also the character that overtook his mascot spot is also a GNC man with super long hair, Alucard. It’s really nice, he’s goals tbh. Good thing I’m anonymous rn because I feel like I’d get torn apart by the fandom for that take lol, but man does it really really help.

Anyway, this is just kinda a stream of consciousness about general experience being a very closeted GNC trans dude idk, sorry if it’s hard to read in any spots. I really hope you’re doing well, I highly appreciate everything you do here. Even the stuff outside of queer issues, I can relate a lot to the gastro and doctor issues too. You elucidate your topics very well and it’s nice to see someone talking about and standing up for people in the community like this. Take care!

i really wanted to thank you for sending this, i really appreciate it. i think this is such an important ask

Like, I’m not POC, but at a certain point I can’t help but think that this description is often times really white leaning. Like what about cultures that don’t cut their hair, would they never pass as a man for it? Are they being trans wrong? What about people who are kinda predisposed to being short or fat? And why the hell is the idea of what a GNC trans man looks like always a tiny, white, slender twink with maybe at most big thighs?

correct, the hair thing is deeply upsetting for a lot of men where their hair is quite literally important to them & their culture. making an indigenous trans man feel obligated to cut their hair in order to pass in white societies is so fucked up. making men feel obligated to cut their hair in general is fucked, but for some men, having long hair is part of their culture and gender. as you pointed out, some trans men are just naturally shorter or taller. none of these things should matter.

in general a trans man should be able to decide how long they want their hair. when i buzzed my hair short for the first time it was so euphoric. but i enjoy having short hair on most of my head because i have psoriasis. it's not because i want short hair. i actually love long hair, which is why i keep sort of a long mullet or tail of sorts because men are allowed to have long hair

thank you so much for sending this, and for the kind words, i really appreciate it! i hope things get safer so you can be out. there's nothing wrong with being a gnc trans guy, i'm one too, and people have gotta stop policing how men look so hard. it's not helping any man when we do this. we are making men neurotic and feel ashamed of themselves if they don't look like a caricature of a lumberjack. it's not right.

[short-honey-badger]

Can you please make an arranged marriage with shamrock?

Oddly enough annon, I was literally in the middle of typing one up when you asked me this lol. I hope you enjoy! They'll most likely be a part 2!

This isn't over

Pairings! Shanks x Female Reader , Figarland Shamrock x Female Reader

Warnings! Not many? Sham is an ass so some name calling

Masterlist for Shamrock-> HERE

Today was your big day. The day that you would be tied to the man who had done nothing but make your life a living hell since the day the two of you were told of the arrangement of marriage. Shamrock used to be cordial to you before this, never one for words, but would incline his head in greeting if he happened to pass you in the hall. Now, the redhead would glare and sneer down his nose at you, as if you were the scum of the earth.

You had tried to be nice after the announcement, wanting to find some kind of common ground with the god knight, but unless the two of you were forced into a meeting by his father, Shamrock wanted nothing to do with you. You don’t know why he disliked you so much, maybe it was because of his father not giving him a choice on who his wife was to be, but even then, you couldn’t understand why he hated you so. To your knowledge, you hadn’t done anything to slight the redhead.

The only good thing coming out of any of this was that you were able to spend more time with Shanks, the younger, more rambunctious Figarland twin. He came and went as he pleased, unconcerned about the wrath of his father. He would find you after Shamrock had tore into you over some slight that the redhead had made up, arm wrapping around you in a comforting hug and holding you close. As time passed, you came to realize that you were quite fond of Shanks, to the point where you were certain that he had stolen your heart.

Dread welled up in your chest at the thought of walking down the aisle to be married off to the twin that you didn’t love. To the man who would pass you by and pull you into a room, voice harsh as dressed you down, hands tight around your shoulders as he snarled in your ear.

“You dress as if you wish someone to fuck you. Is that what you want? To be treated like a whore, darling? You best find something more appropriate to wear, or I will dress you myself.”

You had looked at yourself after that particular encounter and found nothing wrong with the humble dress that you wore. It covered you plenty, the collar just low enough to expose your collarbones and little else. Shanks had found you later, still stuffed away in the room, and had held your hand tightly, voice earnest and soft.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. You would be beautiful even if you were dressed in a brown paper bag. He doesn’t understand how lucky he is.”

His words were the only thing that had stopped you from bawling your eyes out, and you had clutched the younger twin tightly with gratefulness. You don’t know if you could have continued this sham of a marriage without Shanks.

The tightening of your corset brings you out of your thoughts, and you are thrown back to the reality of the situation. You would marry Figarland Shamrock, and you would smile and wave at the masses, pretending that you hadn’t just sold your soul to the devil himself. Your ladies in waiting tittered and cooed once everything was in place, and you turned to stare at yourself in the long mirror.

You looked truly divine, dressed head to toe in shining ivory. Your curves were accented, and your breasts perky, on display with how tightly the corset sat around your midsection. You accept the veil and slide it carefully over your styled hair, obscuring your face as you turn to the door of your rooms and mentally prepare yourself for what comes next.

The room was full of world nobles and the elite, and you ignored each and every one of them in favor of focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You had no family to walk you down the aisle, but your name alone made the masses whisper and point. Ahead of you, Shamrock and his twin stood, the elder of the two dressed in his holy knight uniform and standing at attention. Even from here, you could see the annoyance in his eyes.

Time seemed to crawl, but you eventually made it to the front, walking up the stairs to stand beside Shamrock on the raised dias. He offered you his hand, and you reluctantly gave yours over, lips curling up in a barely there smile as you met his eyes. You had swore to yourself that you would try to make amends with the redhead, but you felt any hope dashed when Shamrock narrowed his eyes and slid them away from you.

You tuned out the words of the officiant, voice hollow whenever you were prompted to speak up, eyes distant as you resigned yourself to an unhappy life and a loveless marriage. That was until the officiant asked if there were any objections.

“I object.”

Shamrock whipped around, the crowd gasping, women and men alike tittering like old hens. He stared at his younger brother, eyes alight with fury.

“You will do no such thing, heathen,” Shamrock snarled, but Shanks just smirked right back and stepped closer, getting into his twin’s face.

“Watch me, brother.”

He then shoved past the older redhead and stood in front of you. You gaped like a fish, eyes wide and back tense as you stared up at him. Shanks grinned down at you, hand coming up to cup your face.

“I can’t stand by anymore, sweetheart, and watch you get married off to someone who won’t love you the way I do. How about we ditch this place?”

You have never wanted anything more in that moment. Shanks was offering you a chance of freedom, and you would be ignorant not to jump at the chance. You lean into his hand, your acceptance on the tip of your tongue when Shamrock snaps out of his stupor of being dismissed by his brother and smacks his twin’s hand away from your face.

“_ is to be mine, Shanks. I will not allow you to ruin our father’s plans like you do everything else. She belongs to me,” He snarls lowly, and you can feel the power of his haki begin to rise, making you feel a bit faint.

“Not yet she isn’t, Shammy,” Shanks says right back, voice a mean tease, and his own will lashes, curling around you protectively as he stares down his brother, “So how about you drop it, and run off to father’s second choice of a bride. I’m sure he already has one picked out for you.”

You reach for Shanks, hand tangling in the dark cloak that he wears. You want to leave, to escape and never return to Mary Geoise, to sail with Shanks out on the open sea with the crew he’s told you so many stories of. You don’t want to waste away, stuck as some trophy wife to a man who had grown to hate you.

“Shanks, get me out of here, please,” you whisper, and he reaches for you, opening his arm so that you could tuck yourself against him. You know that if the two of them were to fight, the entire building would come down on their heads.

Shanks sends a smug smile at his brother, who looks stricken in a way you hadn’t expected at the sight of you tucked into his twin like you are. The longer you look, the more you can see the hurt in his eyes, the startled pain that he looks at you with, as if you’d stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife without any remorse.

You don’t understand why he is looking at you this way, not when he has treated you so badly after being arranged to marry him, but the sight makes you uncomfortable. It makes you think that maybe Shamrock didn’t know how to properly treat you, how to show you that he cared without being a prick about it. The realization makes you feel bad for him, but he had his chance to treat you as a man should the woman he was to marry, and he hadn’t.

“Just let me go, Shamrock,” you whisper, and he flicks his burgundy eyes down to meet your own. His gaze hardens, and the well of emotions you had been witness to disappears under the wall that he brings down. He sneers, shoulders tense.

“Go. Get out of here before I change my mind,” he hisses, and Shanks doesn’t waste any time. He sweeps you up in his arms, bridal style, and begins to carry you out of the building. No one stops the two of you, knowing better than to try and fight the redhead. Before the two of you can make it out the door, you hear Shamrock speak back up, his voice a seething promise that sends shivers down your spine.

“Don’t think I won’t find you again, _. This isn’t over.”

@mit-suri @mfreedomstuff

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Meetings On Window Sills

masterlist

note: I fucking love 60s-70s music so there's a lot of it mentioned, and also remus is a full blown music nerd so why would i not make them bond over music?? also this was inspired by 2007s Jump In! starring my first crush: corbin bleu lol

warnings: didn't edit (don't care), little tiny bit of angst between remus and his dad, smoking, remus having back problems since 11 and a city boy, reader has hair long enough to put in a claw clip

word count: 3.8 k

♡ summary: Many don't know that during summer, Remus goes home to a muggle girl, and he spends more time on his fire escape than in his room some days

♡ Remus Lupin x fem!muggle!reader

request ✗

1971

He’d known her his whole life, well since he was 6 months old. Their mums had both gone to the same ‘mommy and me’ class and hit it off when they both took a smoke break. Since then their mums had noticed they didn’t have much in common and grew apart, not after buying apartments in the same building.

Remus stretched his back, hands on his waist while leaning back, just having done all his folding, getting ready to organize in his trunk. As he stood from the small single bed in the corner he heard the soft hum of music coming from outside, the young boy lifted his widow, needing much more force than when it was made. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” 

Remus looks to her widow, seeing the record player playing on her desk while she reads, not seeming to be doing a whole lot of that though. From his view it looks to be Little Women, which he had read and which he would never tell her, but he had been bored on a visit to his grandparents before they died and that was the only book in his moms childhood room, so he read it and enjoyed it enough to finish and not have much of a critic.

“You always sing that song much louder than the rest.” 

His sudden voice caused the girl to jump in her seat, putting the book down and turning down the record she looked at to him, slightly embarrassed at him catching her. 

“It’s my favourite.” She said moving to sit on her window seat. Remus of course noticed this as a sign that she wanted to continue the conversation, he also noticed the way she played with the bottom button of her cardigan. The boy exited his window onto the fire escape to sit on the window sill.

“It’s The Beatles?” “Yeah, my mum got it for me for Christmas last year. Along with George Harrison’s solo album, ‘cause he’s my favourite Beatle- he actually wrote the song I was singing.” She knew she went on a little too long but Remus wouldn’t stop her, that was the type of person he was, kind hearted. When he listened to her, he really listened, he heard every word and took it in.

“Because he wrote your favourite song?” “Not just that, but I guess that’s where it started then I looked through all my albums and all my favourite songs he wrote.” She briefly pointed behind her and he saw the self of records behind her.

“What ones?” He asked, getting more comfortable by leaning his back on one side of the window frame.

“Umm, I’m happy just to dance with you, and of course here comes the sun.” “That’s me mum's favourite, tells me every time it’s on the radio.” 

The conversation stalls, to avoid awkward stares Remus looks down to the street and watches a man with a yellow jacket cross the street, it glowing in the yellow street lights. His stare only breaks when he hears her voice ask, “What’re you packing for?”

“Oh- That..” Her brows furrow at the nervous tone, he wasn’t sure how to tell her, it wasn’t like they were best friends, they talked once in a while like how they are now and would see eachother at school, “I wasn’t sure how to tell people, I’m going to a different school next year.” “Where?” “It’s a boarding school up in Scotland.” “Why are they making you go?” 

Remus would be lying to say that didn’t surprise him, she sounded like she would miss him a little more than he thought she would, and that deeply confused him.

“My father went so-” It’s interesting how much truth he could say while withholding the biggest piece of information from her.

“That sucks. Aren’t you going to miss your friends.” “I never had many friends.” Overstatement. He had no friends, never really did, kids at school made fun of his scars, or for being a nerd, or for having second hand clothes that his mother still had to sew to be wearable; take your pick really. 

“Not many people like me.” “I like you.” Remus’s head lifted from its stare at his swinging legs, “As- as a friend of course.” “Of course, I like you as a friend too.” 

-

1973 

As soon as he walked through the door, Remus set on the way to his window, leaving his trunk at the door. 

“Hun! Where’re you going so fast?” His mum asked, placing the keys in the bowl by the door, and putting her hands on her hips. His father made his way past her to the kitchen.

“I missed my room!” He yelled, never slowing down the hall. Once they believed he was out of ear shot, he heard his father say, “He wants to see Jen’s girl.” 

As he got closer to her window he saw the girls laying on her back legs up resting on the wall while she read. Her head snapped to the window after the first knock, a large grin making its way to her face. She rolled off her bed and opened the window for him and he heard the tune of Bowie flowing through the room.

She crawled half out the window to hug him, her arms going around his neck and he held her back, his hands felt warm, his embrace felt safe. He wore a thin jumper that felt soft on her skin.

“I’m so happy you’re back.” “Me too.” They say, pulling back and getting comfortable on the window sill. She was still smiling at him, and him at her, before Remus felt he had to look away or he would explode. He took the moment to look at her room and it had changed quite a bit since last summer; bed against a new wall, something she did when she felt she needed a change. He noticed her vinyl collection had grown.

“You finally got Ziggy Stardust!” “Oh yeah!” She jumped off the ledge they sat on and made her way to put it on. 

“I went with some friends to London and we got to go to a huge record shop. Remus you wouldn’t believe the stuff they had there- they had Bob Dylan’s first album so my collection of his is complete.” “Brilliant.” Remus sat down on her window seat bench and grabbed the album from her shelf to get a closer look. With the Bowie record set up, she nudged the volume dial up before returning next to the boy. She hit his leg to get his attention, “Listen to this first one it’s my favourite.” 

He put the Bob Dylan album down to give his full attention to the music. 

Many hours later, the two were still perfectly content listening to album after album, pausing their conversation when a particularly good verse came. They were now on the floor of her room, the girl laid out on her carpet flooring, looking just as carefree and stunning as ever. 

“Joni next?” She said as the album playing came to a close, before he could respond they heard a knock on the window, it was his dad.

“Bit late, innit? ‘S past one, Remus.” “Sorry, Mr. Lupin, we lost track of time.” “‘S alright, dear, but come to bed Remus.” “Okay.” 

His father went back through the window and waited. Remus stood the floor and stretched his back, the girl stood as well, “Tomorrow?” “Yeah.” “G’night, Rem.” “G’night.” 

He joined his dad out on the fire escape as they made their way back to his room, once they got inside and closed the window his father broke the silence. “I know you like that girl, but you’ve ‘ot to keep her out of this world, especially with what you are.” 

And just like, an otherwise perfect night, ruined by one comment by his father. 

“I know.” “Alright. G’night, son.” The door shut behind him, and when he heard that click he let the tear drop.

He knew from his friends that  some people don’t care, they found out this past school year and he still hasn’t told his parents that fact. But for all his life he’s heard otherwise, and he can’t help but think one day the boy’s will come to their senses and leave him all alone again. Y/n though, a muggle, if he ever told her he can imagine that  best case scenario is him having to use obliviate.

-

1975 

Remus retreated to his room after dinner, wanting to sleep or read or something that didn’t involve more people, it had been a long day even before he got on the train home for the summer. As he grabbed the book on his desk he saw a trail of smoke leading to a certain girl’s bedroom, he leaned forward to see her with her glasses on, smoking a cigarette, and wearing mismatching pajamas.

He lifted the window with ease, causing the girl to flick her eyes back to him, “You're back.” “Same time every year.” Both shared a look with smiles on their faces, the girl broke eye contact to grab her pack of cigarettes, and overing him with one.

“Yeah.” He climbs out the window and comes to now sit on her window sill and takes his own cigarette, she grabs the light from behind her and he lets her light his. Her fingertips brushing against his check as she blocks the blooming flame from the soft summer breeze.

He takes the chance to gaze at her lips, wrapped around the cigarette, residue of lipstick left behind, a soft red. She never needed the makeup, but sometimes if he woke up early he could watch her put it on. A moment that he found she looked the most beautiful, practiced movements, mouthing the words to whatever song she was listening to, and the funny faces she made made him smile. 

“I missed you.” “Yeah?” A smile creeped on his face as he looked into her eyes. “Yeah.” “I missed you too. I always do.”

The girl looks away, a smile on her face, unaware that Remus continues his stare looking from her eyes to her smile and the way her hair falls in its clip. She wore a thin olive green tank top, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra so he moved his eyes to the clouds she was looking at. 

“How’re your friends?” Sometimes she felt as though she knew the boys, with how much Remus talked about them, her mind began to wonder if they knew as much about her as she knew about them.

“They’re just the same pricks they’ve always been.” “James got any farther with Lily?” She muttered, flicking off her cigarette and taking another puff, she looked so beautiful and natural. She had glasses that fell down her nose, messy hair that she liked that way, and a laugh like no other.

“Lils would like me to say ‘no’, but I think she likes him a lot more than she cares to share.” “That’s the way it always goes.” She trailed off, to look at him and he was already looking at her.

It was second year Remus became friends with Lily, they were paired up for a project together and became close. At first she was jealous of the girl, she felt that Lily was going to take her spot in Remus’ life, it weirdly enough was when she heard of James’ fondness for the ginger girl that she no longer worried. Well that and the fact that Remus never did anything to insinuate that he was any less friends with her because of Lily. 

And what she didn’t know was that half of the time he was with Lily, he ended up bringing up her.

-

1977 

Y/n was waiting all day for Remus to come home, she never left her room the whole day in waiting. Looking to his window every ten minutes in hope she would see her lanky boy crawling out his window.

It was late in the evening when she came back from the bathroom and immediately went to check, she almost didn’t believe her eyes when she saw the lamp beside his bed on. The girl shrugged on her cardigan that was lying across her desk chair, and crawled out the window.

Remus had just gotten back from a nice dinner with his parents, this was his last summer as a kid and they wanted to make it special from the beginning, especially since next week he was going to spend a month at the Potter’s. 

He was interrupted from changing by a knock on his window, he turned on his heels to see the girl he’s been waiting all year to see. Her smile lights up his face, she looks away and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because he isn’t wearing a shirt, clad in nothing but pajama pants gifted to him by Peter. He quickly slips on a jumper before he opens the window and she stumbles into his room. 

“Hey.” “Hi.” They each silently take this moment to get a look at eachother, the girl noticed that she could see that scar on his chest end just where his jumper begins, it’s surprising that she could know him since they were babies yet doesn’t know when he got that scar. To be honest she never asked about them, she could tell he was insecure about the way he looked, though in her mind there was no need to be.

During this Remus is having his own thoughts about her looks, she was wearing that cardigan she’s had since she was ten, underneath was a tank top like she commonly wore. Her hair was up in a clip, the same ones Mary always wore, small pieces of hair falling out. She was beautiful.

“Urm.. How have you been?” The boy asked justering for her to sit as he took a seat on his bed. She joined him, leaning against the wall and pulled a carton of cigarettes out of her cardigan pocket. 

“Good, yeah I’m good. You?” She replied, feeling around her pockets, “No lighter.” He stood from the bed and went to his dresser drawer, retrieving the pink lighter and throwing it to the girl, she caught it with ease yet didn’t begin to light.

“Is this the lighter I gave you?” 

When they were fifteen, they first smoked weed together, at a nearby park in order to not get caught by their parents. And Y/n, high, had given Remus her lighter when they had climbed back up the fire escape to their windows and told him, “This is my favourite lighter. I don’t know why? I think ‘cause it’s pink, so that means it’s lucky- ‘cause the lighter is lucky it’s pink and not some boring lighter like yours- No, you know what Remus? You should take this one, ‘cause it’s luckier and prettier than yours. But keep it safe, it’s my favourite.” 

That night Remus put it in his sock drawer to keep safe, he never wanted to use it or worse lose it, so he kept it safe just as she asked.

“Um, yeah.” He mumbled, a little embarrassed at the amount of sentiment he put into that cheap lighter. 

“You kept it?” “Yeah, you told me to.” 

He becomes even more embarrassed when she chuckles. She looks down at it in her hands, her chuckle dying down and smile slips. There's a moment of silence as Remus doesn’t know what to say so he just returns to his spot on the bed next to her. She doesn’t look up at him still as she asks, “Why did you keep it?” 

Truthfully Remus does know why he kept it, it was just because she gave it to him, but if that sounds lame in his head it will most definitely sound lame if he says it to the girl he likes, no love, he’s always known he loved her. So once again he’ll chicken out and doesn’t respond.

She waits for his answer, and when it never comes, “Is it.. For the reason I think?” She boldly asks, looking at the side of his face as he has not looked away from the spot on the wall in front of them. 

Another moment, and the beautiful girl tries to get his attention by leaning her face in his line of vision. His gaze is unnerved, he’s too consumed by the thoughts running in his mind, until they all go silent.

She presses a kiss to the side of his mouth and says, “I like you too.”

Head snaps to look at her, eye to eye, nose to nose, and finally lips to lips as Remus presses a hard kiss right on her lips. She immediately begins kissing back, and trying to take control but to her surprise Remus is a lot more comfortable in his actions now and is the one leading the kiss and pushing his tongue between her soft lips, which she gladly accepts.

The girl trails her hand up the inside of his thigh before skipping up to hold his jaw, Remus at the same time grabs her hips and squeezes, causing Y/n to swing one leg over his and straddle the boy’s lap. Her hands fall from his jaw, to his neck, to his chest and pushes him away lightly.

Both slowly allow their eyes to open and look at eachother, smiles mirroring each other. 

“So-” “Boyfriend girlfriend?” “Yeah, that’s cool.”

-

1977

“I’ll get the Bowie album, then we can listen to it when you get back.” “When’s it coming out?” “October.”

The girl replied, her head lying on his bicep as she played with his hand, drawing shapes and tracing his veins. In his other hand, resting on her stomach, Remus held the book he and Lily decided to read over the break for their informal book club. 

Y/n thought about asking what she’s been wanting to ask since they’ve gotten together, “Are you going to come home for Christmas?” The last time he did was fifth year, last year he had gone to his friend James’ house. And from what he told her, he had the best time, so you can see she was a little worried he would do that again and she wouldn’t get to see her boyfriend till next summer.

What she didn’t know was that Remus was hoping to avoid this at any cost, it was a full moon this christmas. So even if he did come home, he wouldn’t even get to see her much.

“I haven’t thought about it.” “Oh.” Damn, wrong thing to say. She thought about it. She asked him. She wanted him there.

“I mean- I would love to come home and see you! I just- I don’t know if-” “What?” 

She saw the hurt in his face, she knew whatever he was thinking about he was trying to push down and resist it, she sat up and sat crisscrossed facing him. She leaned down and grabbed his hands, gently taking the book out of his hands and marking the page by folding the corner.

“What’s wrong, Remus?... You can tell me.” “That’s just it- I can’t, or rather I shouldn’t.” “Okay, now I’m confused.” She scoffed, shaking her head and standing up to get some space, “What can you not tell me. I tell you everything.” 

Remus sat up, leaning against the wall on his bed, head in his hands, thinking about everything. Everything he ‘couldn’t’ tell her, if he couldn’t trust her he believed he couldn’t trust anyone ever again.

“Okay, you have to believe me though, and it’s going to sound like I’ve gone mad. So just remember that I know how absolutely insane I sound, and that I’m still telling you because I trust you. More than anyone.” Met with slight hesitance, Y/n replies, “Okay.”

“I’m a wizard.” He waits for the big reaction that never comes, he stares at the confused face of his girlfriend before he stands and goes to his bottom desk drawer and grabs his wand.

“Levioso.” The boy says, pointing at his record player and directing it as it levitates, before ultimately placing it back in the same spot on his dresser. When he looked back at the girl, her jaw opened in shock. 

“Holy fucking SHIT!... That just- in air! You are!” “A wizard? Yes.” “How? I mean- you- what?” 

Remus came to her side, guiding her to sit with him on his bed, “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve got more.” “MORE?” She looked towards him, concerned for what was to come.

“Yes. Okay, I’m also a werewolf.” “If I didn’t know you, or see that pissing record player float- God, I’d think you were too far gone.” Her words were a relief, causing Remus to chuckle, but truthfully a weight lifted off his chest, to have the most important person in his life to not judge him, “You have no idea how much that means to me- I’m the same Remus you knew, you just know everything now.” 

-

1977

“So I werewolves are real, what about vampires?” “Yes.” “What?! Am I going to have to worry about them?” “Don’t visit Romania.” “That’s not funny.”

They laid together, well Remus laid done while his girl moved every few moments, very excited about the new world she was learning about, at this moment she sat on the boy’s thighs with her legs straddling them on either side.

“What’s your favourite subject in school? For real, now that I know you don’t actually take English.” “Defence against the dark arts.” “That’s a class?” “Yes, a very important one.” He replied, moving his hands up the girl's thighs, from her knees to grasping her hips. He keeps his hands there, squeezing when he feels like it.

“What’s your least favourite?” “Flying. But I haven’t taken that since first year.” “WHY would you hate flying? That’s the dream.” “I don’t like heights.” “But you’re FLYING! Through the air!” “Really? Well, now I’ve got to rethink things.” “Oh, shut up.” 

Remus was laughing now, and he could tell she was trying hard not to. He pulled her down to him, keeping her there with his hands on her back as he attacked her cheek with kisses, “Ah!” 

The small scream falls on deaf ears as Remus continues kissing her cheeks to her jaw and burrows his head to the crook of her neck. He mumbles something she can’t quite hear, but she can just barely make out the word ‘love’. But still continues to fight him off, “Ah! Rem- tickles!” “Don’t care.”

[dollwhite]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

Siren reader

Made by Dolling

Ps this was rushes at the least minute pls read my note at the end!!

Ok so imagine siren reader walking home from the grocery store? Right and like it’s the middle of the night crmnals and crooks r out. So siren reader is just walking with 2-3 bags filled with snacks and junk food when all of a sudden the young boy wonder jumps down infant of reader.

And gos like “Miss.. r you ok?”

AND you’re like “Oh yeah dude my days been great!” Because yeah u eat men but that doesn’t mean u have to be a villain. Like your just trying to live your life , ur taking a break from music, ur not really on social media anymore. Overall everything’s been good.

“Oh um well it’s a villain attack so I think u should go inside.”

That.. wasn’t what you were expecting?.. I mean you weren’t expecting a vigilante to drop down and ask u if you were ok in the first place. But it made you think?

What do you think about vigilantes.? You don’t hate them….. no but you don’t like them either. But this one? What was his name?.. Red Robin yeah that’s it Red Robin.

He could maybe change your mind about that, who ever is rising him their rising him right. But eh not really having a kid that looks no older than 16-17 fight villains like Joker and Bene weren’t good parenting choices. But what would you know? You didn’t have ANY kids or pets for that matter.

So you wouldn’t know anything about parenting but one thing you do know is that if you ever have a kid you wouldn’t want them fighting villains in their teenage years, that’s even worse than them going out partying or drinking.

“Oh would you look at the time, sorry kid I would love to stay and chat but I have to get home! Stay safe though.!!” You shouted, time passed quickly and before you even realized it had been 15 minutes. The trip to the store was only supposed to take at most 8 minutes, as you only like 3 minutes from the store.

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤

Bruce is going to kill him.. and that’s if the others don’t get to him first.

Tim doesn’t know why but… he was just drawn to you… but could you really blame him? Seeing someone carrying groceries bags in the middle of a big villain attack, wasn’t an every day thing. Maybe it was the way you just seemed to not care about your surroundings.

Or the fact that you were the only one not running indoors, trying to find shelter. Also the fact that your bags were fuller with junk food.

Shit what time is it? Before you run off Tim could have sworn you said something about it having been 15 minutes?? He hopes you read the time wrong.. because if you didn’t than Bruce was going to kill him.

He should start going, any minute now and the coms are going to be filled with them asking what’s taking him so long. He should get going now, when all of this is over. He’s going to look into you look about 21-24 You didn’t look that much older than him maybe more around Jason’s age or Dicks.

Nah you couldn’t be Jason’s age, When Jason died Tim research his class. And Tim never forgets a face if you were in Jason’s old class or school he would have recognized you at lest.

Maybe you’re younger than Jason? Maybe a year or two. Oh look his back at the manner….. in the cave.

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝

It was a good thing you were friends with ivy, if not?…. Your Condo would have been boomed a while ago. It was a crazy day to be a ‘hero’ glad you aren’t one. Your not a villain either

Your just a woman that eats men..

Today was chaotic to say the least. Five different villains had teamed up to take down the hero’s. This was not what you were expecting when moving toGotham, maybe you should go back to star city or just somewhere. You chose Gotham because wellll… it’s a shity place with shity people.

Mostly Man but, it was a lot easier getting man to follow you. All you had to really do was go to a club or bar and just take them to the back.

Hiii so Dolling here I just wanted to say this is kinda short notice because my internet is down, and idk when my mom is going to pay the bill. So ima just try and finish most of my drafts on google docs. And when I’m around internet I will post them! Reblogs and likes are always appreciated!! Also I think I’m going to change my theme every two/month AND my top follower at that time will be able to choose the theme!!

Or should I do a poll with 3 different themes and the one that wins will be the heme for that month, and the one that was close to winning will be my theme for the next month? U guys can pick between those two options!

Love you all

Dolling shining out 💗

[isak-dot-gov]

Class is in session

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader

Word Count: 840

Summary: Nika teaches you a bit of Croatian.

My Masterlist :)

..........................................................

It all started as an offhand comment during one of your cozy evenings together. You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, munching on popcorn, while Nika stretched out beside you, her legs propped up on your lap.

“I think it’d be cool to learn Croatian,” you said, mostly thinking out loud.

Nika turned her head, giving you a sharp look that was equal parts amused and incredulous. “You? Learn Croatian?” she teased, her lips curling into a smirk. “You can’t even pronounce ‘Mühl’ correctly half the time.”

“Hey!” You swatted her leg. “I’m serious. I think it’d be fun.”

That smirk of hers widened, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes. “Fun, huh? Alright, ljubavi. If you’re serious, I’ll teach you. But I don’t go easy on my students.”

The next day, Nika was ready. She showed up at your apartment with a small notebook, a pen, and the enthusiasm of a coach preparing for a championship game. “Alright, let’s see what we’re working with,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the floor and patting the space beside her.

You joined her, laughing nervously. “Okay, where do we start, teach’?”

“The basics,” she said, opening the notebook. “Greetings. Numbers. Simple stuff. Ponovi za mnom—repeat after me.”

“Ponovi za mnom,” you echoed.

“Good!” she praised, scribbling in the notebook. “Alright, say this: ‘Dobar dan.’”

“Dobber dan?” you said hesitantly, immediately earning a laugh.

“It’s ‘dobar,’ not ‘dobber,’” she corrected, grinning. “You’re already butchering it.”

“Oh, come on, it’s my first try!” you groaned, but the sight of her laughing made it impossible to be annoyed.

Over the next few days, the lessons continued. Every evening, Nika would sit down with her notebook, patiently teaching you words and phrases. But it didn’t take long for her true intentions to shine through.

On the third day, she leaned back on the couch, her arm casually slung over the backrest. “Okay, try this one: ‘Volim te.’”

You furrowed your brow, concentrating. “Volim te,” you repeated, your pronunciation careful but hesitant.

Nika grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do you know what you just said?”

You shook your head. “I have no idea. Should I?”

“It means, ‘I love you,’” she said, her voice dropping to a teasing lilt.

Your face immediately went heated up. “Nika!”

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “You’re learning useful phrases! And it’s true, so…”

She trailed off, her smirk growing wider as you tried—and failed—to hide your embarrassment by covering your face.

From that point on, her lessons took a decidedly flirty turn. The next day, she taught you phrases like Ti si prelijepa (You are beautiful) and Želim te poljubiti (I want to kiss you), making you repeat each one until your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Why do I feel like you’re just teaching me ways to embarrass myself?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Because I am,” she admitted shamelessly. “But you’re so cute when you’re flustered. It’s worth it.”

By the end of the week, you had a small arsenal of Croatian phrases under your belt, though most of them seemed better suited for a romance novel than everyday conversation. Nika was relentless, always finding ways to make you blush.

One evening, she leaned in close, her lips hovering just beside your ear. “Say this: Ti si ljubav mog života,” she murmured, her voice low and velvety.

“Ti si ljubav mog života,” you repeated, your heart racing.

She pulled back, her grin softening into something more genuine. “It means, ‘You are the love of  my life.’”

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. “You’re ridiculous,” you finally managed, though the smile on your face betrayed your affection.

The next day, you decided to turn the tables. You spent the afternoon secretly practicing a phrase you’d found online, determined to catch her off guard.

When she arrived that evening, notebook in hand, you met her smirk with a confident grin.

“Alright, ponovi za mnom,” you said, mimicking her usual instruction.

Nika raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh, really? Let’s hear it.”

Taking a deep breath, you recited, “Ti si moja omiljena osoba na svijetu.”

For the first time in days, Nika was silent. Her eyes widened, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks. “You just said I’m your favorite person in the world,” she murmured, her voice unusually soft.

You nodded, your grin growing. “I did. And I meant it.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, her expression unreadable. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, one that was warmer and more genuine than any of her usual smirks. “You’re good,” she admitted, her voice filled with affection.

Leaning closer, she rested her forehead against yours. “But you know what this means, right?”

“What?”

She smirked again, that mischievous glint returning to her eyes. “I’m going to have to find new ways to make you flustered.”

And with that, she pressed a soft kiss on your lips, leaving you completely speechless—just the way she liked it.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

No easy job||Peter Sutherland x fem!reader

Summary— Peter swore up and down he’d never join the secret service but here he is as the body guard of the presidents daughter who loves to keep Peter on his toes .

Word count—644

Peter Sutherland prided himself on being calm under pressure. It was practically a job requirement. Whether it was racing against the clock to prevent a terrorist attack or navigating the bureaucratic chaos of Washington, D.C., he always kept a cool head.

Until now.

“Do you always ignore every rule ever written, or am I just lucky?” Peter asked, his voice taut as he followed Y/N into the crowd of gala attendees.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “Rules are more like guidelines. You’ll get used to it.”

Peter exhaled sharply, gripping the earpiece in his hand before shoving it back into his ear. “I’m not supposed to get used to you wandering off without telling me.”

“I’m not wandering off. I’m mingling. Big difference,” she replied, plucking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. The glint of the chandelier above reflected in her glass as she tilted it toward him in mock cheers. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Someone spills a drink on me?”

Peter scanned the room, his sharp eyes catching a suspicious figure lingering near the exit. The man adjusted his jacket, and Peter’s stomach tightened. He was already running through the possibilities—exit routes, potential threats, fallback plans. “The worst that could happen is someone targets you because your father is the president, and I’m left explaining why I let you stroll into danger like it’s a weekend hobby.”

She paused, turning to face him fully. Her expression softened just a fraction, though there was still a flicker of defiance in her gaze. “Peter, relax. I’ve done this a hundred times. No one’s going to target me in the middle of a charity gala. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Peter shot back, stepping closer. The faint buzz of conversation and laughter around them felt miles away. “You don’t get to be fine. You get to be safe. That’s the deal.”

Her smirk returned, this time tinged with challenge. “You’re kind of intense, you know that? Has anyone ever told you to loosen up?”

“Has anyone ever told you that ignoring protocol is a terrible idea?”

“Constantly.” She raised her glass again, but her fingers tightened around the stem. “Didn’t stick.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing, his eyes locked on hers. She had that maddening ability to act like nothing could touch her, like the world wasn’t full of people willing to exploit her trust and bravery. It wasn’t just frustrating—it was terrifying.

“You think I don’t see it?” he said finally, his voice softer but no less firm. “The way you brush everything off like it doesn’t matter? But it does, Y/N. You might think you’re invincible, but—”

“—I’m not,” she interrupted, her tone unusually serious. Her eyes flicked down, then back to his. “I know that, Peter. But I also can’t live my life hiding behind Secret Service agents every second of the day. It’s not who I am.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. Something about her recklessness struck too close to home—someone else he’d failed to protect, someone else who didn’t listen. He couldn’t let that happen again. “I’m not asking you to hide. I’m asking you to let me do my job without feeling like I need a defibrillator on standby every time you step into a room.”

Her lips twitched, the smirk threatening to return. “Are you saying I stress you out?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned.

She laughed, and the sound pulled a reluctant smile from him before it faded. “Good. Keeps you on your toes,” she said with a wink, and before he could reply, she slipped into the crowd again, disappearing like a shadow.

Peter groaned, pulling his earpiece into place. He scanned the room quickly, noting that the suspicious man near the exit had shifted positions again, and his unease grew. Protecting Y/N was going to be the death of him—he was sure of it.

[liquorflower]

𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 — 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

cw: just pure angst, canon divergence, post-jjk, mentions of death, gojo and you have children, plot-twist.

a/n: this is just a little writing exercise.

the table was just set at this moment. in this icy morning, water, breakfast and honey, decorate the table and coffee brewed fills the house with its well-known smell. your children enjoy playing outside with yuji, megumi and nobara. in this cold morning, you thank having bought those cozy jackets in the mid-summer. now you don’t have to worry about visiting full department stores in this time of year.

poor nobara. by the way little ike is inspecting her eye, grabbing with her tiny hands the jovial cheeks of the girl, she right now might be asking her how she got to lost her eye, how it felt like, how it is to just look with one eyeball, and other sorts of questions, that for you, are merely childish imprudences — perhaps a behavior inherited from your husband, who was about to arrive.

takeshi, by the way he seems to grab both megumi and yuji marks, may have the same curiosity as his sister.

water, for when they have finished eating the western breakfast: scrambled eggs and bacon, to refresh your mouths after the meal and children can drink milk and the adults enjoy the hot coffee.

honey, to spread it in the recently baked biscuits nanami will bring from his trusted bakery shop.

now you just wait for satoru. the kids will be happy to see their dad again and then, in the afternoon enjoy the sweets you are sure he will bring for them. though you don’t have a sweet tooth, you recognize how vile it would be to deny them a sweet treat from time to time.

“hey, there.” a cocky voice can be heard from afar.

“satoru?” you turn and that albino hair, those blue pupils, and...

why he’s not wearing any jacket, with the awful cold is making outside?

after the divorce, when nanami didn’t serve as a therapist for both of you, you managed to keep your worry for him as a formality when you were in front of the children. “have you checked your teeth?” “it’s cold outside, i think you should wear a jacket.”

“i’m glad to see you too.” he gets near and, grabs your knuckles with such delicacy, inviting you to get up from your chair.

“i can tell the same.” you look away, not wanting him to wonder what goes through your mind, not wanting your eyes to betray you. you both had to admit that there was still a spark. it’s just that satoru’s busy lifestyle didn’t allow you to consummate your love, enjoy the children. just curse there and there.

it was unbearable.

“you’ve been missing me?” he teases as always. nanami would always say things like: “i think there are things you need to solve by yourselves.” “i’m not any kind of messenger that you can use as you please.” the blonde man, in some way or another, implied how much he made you suffer, even though you asked him not to tell him that you waited for him every day, just to see if he would change his mind.

then, he notices it’s just not the way he wanted to let you know he also missed you, but also despite how you tried to hide it, you, trying not to cry and hold tears back, is present.

“i think i sounded cruel, didn’t i?” he murmured.

you gasped, as now an enormous and overwhelming sadness consumes you and can’t understand why. he’s here with you and all you want to do is to tell him how much you’ve been longing for him to come and stay with you. that doesn’t matter how much you’ll be waiting for him, the three of you will be blissfully anticipating his arrival.

“hey, it’s okay, i’m here.” he hugs you and instead of feeling any sort of comfort, it’s like a mass of ice is hugging you and that sheds more tears, accompanied by uncontrollable sobbing. “you know? could you please tell the children that they’ll live forever in my heart?” he mumbles in your ear.

“i don’t want you to leave, satoru.” you protest. your whimpers and sob crack your voice.

“hey, hey.” his frozen thumbs try to clean your tears. “i’ll be here, with you. looking after ike and takeshi, you were the most precious thing that could ever happen to me. you have no idea how much i would have liked to enjoy you more. i wish i could go back in time.”

“don’t bullshit me. you still can do it. we can...”

your hands intertwine. “tell them i would’ve loved to take them to eat all the candies in the world.”

you look at his hands. the hands of the strongest man. a vague: “yes” comes from your mouth.

and then, nanami enters with the bread and the trio of young students enters with your children. who quickly noticed your face full of tears and tried to distract the children for them.

nanami, of course knows what happened.

yeah, you have forgotten. now nanami just can’t go and tell him about how your feelings. even if you were at verge of tears, you tried to hide it from nanami, who of course, tired of other things that were happening in his life, tried not to be attached or pay attention to them.

now you just wished you could have been brave enough to speak directly to satoru and no after disgrace just happened.

[i-dared-myself]

Relationship Headcanons

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: I don't have anything specific in mind, so you could do anything, really. General headcanons, how they catch feelings for reader (as I'm 4 years younger than all of them, I like to imagine that they would slowly catch feelings, after the reader was of age, obviously), how they confess, established relationship headcanons, fluff, hurt/comfort, even smut - I'd love to see it all!  Absolutely no pressure, though. I know you have other requests and probably other ideas to write, so, since this isn't a request and more of a brainrot, you don't have to rush to write anything for me!! Thanks for reading, I hope you have a very good day/night!

I have some THOUGHTS. Fair warning, this post just might be 2k words of me putting all of those thoughts into actual words. Might not make any sense to anyone except me.

•After about two years of you being friends with them, they realize they have feelings for you. It’s stupid, since they come to the realization when you smile at them.

•You simply smile, and about half of them swoon, while the other half are better at keeping their composure. As soon as you exit the room, they all panic and face each other to talk it about.

•Hyunjin is frantic and clawing at his hair, because what the FUCK. You’re annoying! You have terrible taste in books with those smutty novels, and why are you always tripping on air?!? How do you manage? But like… He wants to be the one to catch you when you stumble.

•Felix kinda knew for a while. He always got butterflies when your hands accidentally brushed. But knowing that the others liked you too? Especially when he liked them as well? It really was what did him in.

•Jisung is a nervous wreck. He’s so worried that you’ll catch on that it makes it very obvious. He thinks you know, so he’s trying to act like he doesn’t know that you know, but what if that means that you know he knows that you know? And what if-

•Chan is oblivious. He doesn’t even understand what the group is talking about until someone asks him if he’s okay with a poly relationship. Then it all clicks, and damn, he likes you. And he likes them?!?

•Minho had been waiting for a while. He knew that the others liked you, and he didn’t really understand why. Then he got sick and you checked in on him by text every hour or so, and he found himself waiting for your message with a stupid smile on his face.

•Jeongin knew when he first met you that you were perfect. Your smile makes him weak in the knees and your laugh makes his heart flutter (it’s not a heart condition, he’s checked).

•Seungmin also didn’t like you at first. The others gave you so much attention when you weren’t anything special. You couldn’t sing as well as him, nor could you dance at his level. He spent months figuring out what was unique about you, only for you to surprise him with his favourite snack for no reason. Just to make him happy?

•Changbin gets all giggly when you talk to him. He can’t help it. He just hopes he’s subtle (he’s not) and spends as much time with you as he can, just because it makes him happy.

•You like them, but don’t ever expect the feelings to be returned.

•You’re sitting on the couch, minding your own business one day, when Seungmin stretches out next to you. You ignore him and keep your attention on your phone, fighting down the butterflies in your stomach when his thigh brushed against yours.

•“Practise done for the day?” You try your best to keep your voice steady, especially when his throat flexes as he listens.

•He grins, and those damn butterflies are fluttering around inside you with a vengeance. “All done. Do you wanna come eat with us?”

•You accept eagerly. The group goes to a small restaurant and shares a single table. It’s cramped and you’re constantly getting elbowed in the ribs, but you love it.

•Everyone serves each other, telling stories of their day. Hyunjin suddenly leans over and swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, making your breath hitch.

•“You had something there,” he says simply, returning to his food. One side of his lips quirk up and he raises an eyebrow. “What’s with the face?”

•You huff and pick up your utensils again, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

•And Chan insists on paying, going so far as to pin you to his chest with one arm, using the other to tap his card. He whispers into your ear, “Nice try.”

•You stumble away, smacking his arm. You hope it isn’t obvious how flustered you are.

•And they bring you back to the dorms with them for a movie night. There isn’t enough room in the van, since someone came separately in an Uber.

•You’re placed into Felix’s lap, whose hands come to your waist to keep you steady. When the car bumps, he pulls you flush to him, arms tight around your torso.

•A movie is carefully selected after about twenty minutes of arguing. Everyone settles into their spots and you curl into a blanket.

•Jeongin whines about how he’s cold, so you invite him under with you. He dives into the blankets and pulls them up to chin-level.

•Changbin gives you some of his popcorn, although he insists on feeding it to you. He says it’s so you don’t have to take your hands out from the blankets.

•Eventually you get tired, and fall asleep with your head on Jisung’s shoulder. His entire face turns red, but you’re asleep and don’t catch it.

•But the others do.

•Minho sighs and is the first to speak. “Let’s just get it over with. We all know Jisung will give it away.”

•Jisung splutters in outrage, but the others all mutter agreements. This is it. They’re finally going to do it.

•So when you blearily blink yourself awake, they’re all staring at you. You scream and scramble away, because what if they’re trying to kill you?!?

•Chan steps forward, clearing his throat. “We like you. In a uh- In a romantic way.”

•You just stare at him for a moment before slowly nodding. “Right. Okay.”

•They sigh, realizing you don’t believe them. They then spend the next entire five minutes convincing you that they actually like you.

•When you return the confession, they all breathe out a sigh of relief.

•Minho isn’t obvious about his feelings while inside the relationship. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. It just means he’s not in your face about it. He shows affection through actions rather than words.

•He slips your favourite candy bar into your lunch kit before you go off to work. He lets you do his makeup, even though he barely tolerates the staff touching his face.

•Changbin is all about physical touch. He’s constantly giving you hugs. Sometimes he’ll sneak up behind you and throw you over his shoulder, only letting you go if you promise to give him a kiss.

•Or sometimes he’ll take someone else hostage, ransoming them off for an extra long cuddle session, or for you to sit on his lap while he works.

•Jisung is the needy boyfriend. We all know it. He’s affectionate and clingy, and oh-so-sweet. He’s always following after you or texting you at random times to get your opinion on a new shade of nail polish.

•Then he listens to your day as he paints your nails, humming along and gasping at the appropriate times.

•Felix sends you random pictures of himself. It’ll be him making a funny face, or a heart with his hands, or sometimes a mirror reflection with his sweatpants pulled down slightly while he’s not wearing a shirt.

•And whenever you send a silly face back, he saves it to his camera roll. He has a whole album dedicated to you.

•Seungmin adores being told how much you care about him. Sometimes the media overlooks him (a crime) and whenever you tell him how much he means to you, it melts his heart.

•Like if you turn to him on a random Tuesday and say that you love him, he’ll come close to crying. This man is in love with being loved.

•Hyunjin paints you. He’ll have you pose for him and will spend hours painting you. (You get tired of sitting there after about two minutes so he has a picture of you in the position he wants)

•He’s so shy about his work, but once everyone tells him how much he loves it, he hangs it on the walls. There’s a whole section of the house dedicated to his paintings.

•Jeongin is constantly asking if you would love him if he was a worm. Constantly. No matter how many times you answer, he will always pout and ask it again some other time.

•He’s always doing those relationship trends with you, whether it be over text or in person. He’ll even have the others film your reactions.

•Chan, after a long day of work, will come to you and just collapse into your lap. He’ll place his head in your lap and groan about how much work it is having seven kids.

•You’ll play with his hair, and once he rants for about three minutes, he’ll get all sheepish about talking about himself. So then you have to convince him that you love hearing him talk, no matter what it’s about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~18+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NSFW headcanons now, people. Look at the 18+ symbol.

Or like, if this isn’t your cup of tea, you’re welcome to leave. I won’t hold it against you. :D

•Jisung will honestly just tease you until you do something about it. He knows he’s a brat and he’s proud of it.

•The only way to deal with it is to overstimulate him. He’ll beg you to do it, even.

•He’s open to the idea of having sex with the others there, whether they watch or join in. But no one from outside the group. He only trusts the other members with you.

•He loooves edging. He especially likes it with a vibrator. On him or you, it doesn’t matter.

•Chan has the biggest breeding kink known to man. He enjoys filling you up until it’s leaking out of you, only for him to push it back in.

•The idea of putting his child into you, and having you waddle around makes him hard. Just the mental image of you swollen with his child, evidence of how you were his and he managed to do that.

•He also just enjoys missionary. He likes being able to see your pretty face as you cum. He coos soft words to you as you orgasm.

•Jeongin adores it when you take his cock into your mouth. He squirms around when it hits your throat, and it’s so warm and wet and just-

•He likes it a lot. He also likes role playing. He was terrible at the start, but he quickly warmed up to it.

•His particular favourites are when you just surprise him with it. They make him gasp in surprise before he throws himself into it.

•Minho is such a sadist. He likes slapping your face. He loves spanking you. He wants to make you cry.

•But he’s such a sweetheart at the same time. He loves praising you when you take all of his dick, calling you his good little darling.

•And sometimes, if you’re good, he’ll let you ride him. You thank him for it, and then he has you do all the work. He laughs as you beg him for something more before flipping you over and actually fucking you.

•Changbin likes manhandling you. He likes being able to throw you across the bed before forcing your thighs open.

•Likes it when you warm his cock. He has you sit there as he works, scolding you every time you try to grind down on him.

•He really enjoys it when he can keep you in place on his cock. No matter how much you to try wiggle to get friction, he keeps you stationary. “Nice try, though,” he’ll always tell you.

•Hyunjin likes degrading you maybe just a little bit. Have you seen how he’s always looking at people in disgust? He’ll call you pathetic with zeros regrets.

•Enjoys coming up with random ‘rules’ just so he can punish you for it. They usually entail him tying you to a chair and touching himself, making you watch.

•But the moment you have enough, he’s the perfect sub (if you ignore the back-talk).

•Seungmin is a switch. When he subs, he’s such a brat. He’s sassy and refuses to do a thing you tell him. When he’s a dom he’s a brat tamer.

•He doesn’t care if it’s ironic. He’ll fuck you stupid if you mention anything about it.

•He loves dumbification. Either way. It just makes him brain short-circuit and his dick throb.

•Felix likes it from the back. Taking you from behind is his absolute favourite. Bends you over the counter and has his way with you.

•But so soft. King of aftercare. Gets you anything you could possibly ask for.

•Will buy you fancy heels just so he can fuck you in them. Dresses you up. He takes you shopping and spoils you senseless to make up for what he’ll do to you later.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret

[asktheritochampion]

Soo... What's your true opinion on Teba, Tulin, and Saki? :)

Why are you so intent on ruining every half decent relation I have and obliterating my dignity in the process?

Tulin is the only Rito in the past hundred years who has been able to harness the winds as I can. Not only I am unbelievably proud of the kid, but this ability we - and only we - share, connects us. I wish to train him everything I know. I feel immensely protective of him and would give my very life to protect him – not that I wouldn’t for most people I suppose. I had a brother once by blood; Tulin is more of a brother to me than he ever was.

The wind connects our souls, and we are both her children.

Teba is the most phenomenal Rito Warrior I have ever met, past or present.

The intensity of his training is admirable, even to me. While he may never have mastered the skies, his archery skills are so advanced that I believe that if he didn’t hold back, he would defeat even me in a contest of skill – and that is not an assumption I would award lightly.

Not only is he an unmatched warrior but a wise and confident leader to our people, and an incredible father to his son. He is the Rito all men should aspire to be. I admire him so much that it’s embarrassing. I feel pathetically desperate to make him proud and I don’t even know why.

He told me once that he would be proud to call me a son and I’ve been in an emotional war with myself ever since; both wanting to cling onto my title as his worshipped hero from the past, but also crumbling beneath the childish desire to feel wanted and loved. The notion should be terribly patronising shouldn't it?! I’m the Rito Champion and an adult grown man - I do not need a father or a parent of any kind. So why am I incapable of thinking of him without calling him dad in my mind? Why is it that all I want is for him to tell me he's proud of me all the time?! Why do I need that?! What is wrong with me?!

Then there’s Saki.

Ever since I awoke from my passing, I feel as if I’ve been broken. Consumed with grief and regret, remorse and guilt and devastation. I lost everyone I ever knew, I never even got to apologise for failing them, it has been tearing me apart from the inside out. At first she took me into her home as a kindness, as most anyone would do when a Rito turns up without a roof over their head – but even during my very worst days, in moments where I’ve wished I could have remained dead, where I’ve been unable to eat or even rise from my hammock like a useless, pathetic fool, she’s been nothing but patient and kind to me.

From day one, she’s been treating me as if I were a beloved family member - even when at my lowest moments I’ve been nothing but rude or disruptive or downright pitiful. Nobody has ever given me that kind of endless, unconditional care, not even as a chick. I pretend to myself and to any who pry that my family died in some heroic battle, but I’m not dense, I know they left me behind because I was unwanted – that perhaps I was simply too much effort for too little gain. I’m constantly afraid that one day I’ll awaken and be asked to leave because I am simply too inconvenient - too rude and unpleasant, that I’m too intense to put up with – that somehow, despite being the best, that I’m still not good enough.

I could move out at any time really, it wouldn’t take long to build my own nest. But she...she smells and sounds like the vaguest memories of my own mother and being close to her makes me feel safe in a way I’ve never felt before and I just...I don’t know how to handle going back to not feeling like that anymore.

Everything is terrible and I just... want my mom.

…And thanks to you, the lot of them will likely never speak to me again after this mortifying admission.

Now if you don't mind, I need to go and hide under a rock and never show my face in the Village again.

[6/10 🧪✨]

[lennadanvers]

Sooooo... Birthday with ex-husband!Eddie!! I had this idea laying around, and since I still have to finish my thesis and I'm in the middle of moving, it was the perfect time to spend three hours writing this. I didn't have it in me to come up with a title, sorry.

I feel like this man feels like he lives in a movie. Also, he's just uncapable of leaving his love alone. I really missed him.

Ex-husband!Eddie loves being a rockstar. It has so many perks. Like thousands of people absolutely loving you. Fans who would devote their time and effort to him if he asked them to.

To be fair, he doesn’t usually take advantage of that. But sometimes he can’t stop himself. Especially when it’s about you.

Eddie was always great at gifts. It’s easy when he spends so much time thinking of you. He knows everything there is to know- and then a little more, because he knows even the things you don’t realize about yourself. And he’s a showman.

So it shouldn’t be as much of a surprise when, on your birthday, you turn the radio on to a cover of your favorite song by Corroded Coffin. Which is weird because your usual radio station doesn’t play music. That is actually the reason why you chose it- no ex-husband singing metal at 7 a.m. when you’re driving the kids to school.

Except it is a surprise.

One that goes on the whole day. First, when you change the station- once, twice, five times- and realize the goddamned song is playing in every fucking station. Okay. It’s okay, because you’ll pretend you didn’t notice. And you’ll turn the traitor radio off as soon as it ends. You won’t take any chances to find out what's playing next.

It happens again when you come out of the grocery store to a gigantic bouquet of your favorite flowers on top of the hood of your car. And when you look into your grocery bags and find your favorite ice cream with a little note that says “Happy Birthday!” on it, written in an awfully messy handriting you'd recognize anywhere; it's on your marriage certificate, after all. You didn’t buy ice cream. They don’t even sell this brand in the state: it’s Hawkin’s very own local ice cream shop recipe. Hadn’t the place shut down a few years back, anyway?

You seriously dread getting home after that. Who knows what Eddie might be up to? Because of course it’s him. As if it could be Jay, the guy you had dinner with a few times in the last month- who had failed to remember you were a vegetarian after sharing four meals. You hate that it’s him. You hate that he has the means to orchestrate this. The money, the time, the desire to do it.

Luckily- as if he knew your patience would be running short- your home is exactly as you left it. Maybe a little bit cleaner, but that’s probably just your paranoia.

Until you sit on the couch to reply to all the birthday texts and your finger slips and opens TikTok.

Rookie mistake.

You find yourself lost in a sea of stupid, viral, brand-new edits. It’s not new to have Corroded Coffin’s fans wish you a happy birthday, but this… This is a whole new level. And it’s a little terrifying, because there are videos of you blushing and smelling the flowers. You kick the stupid bouquet off the coffee table where you left it. And close the ice cream container with the spoon still inside. Bastard. There are videos of Eddie singing the stupid song on a radio station, live- God, you love that song. Why did he have to do that?

And why wasn’t that enough? One would think the very public display was a thing in itself. There is no need for even more paraphernalia, right? Wrong- at least Eddie thinks so. Because he’s there- surrounded by fans who also happen to be the same age as you, and parents to the kids your children go to school with- when you go to pick them up. Eddie shouldn’t be there. It’s your turn.

But he smiles when he sees you, running to hug you as if he had just encountered a long-lost friend. You’re not friends, but he definitely lost you. And he’ll take any chance to put his head in your neck to pretend you still want him there.

Oh, and there’s also another reason this time.

Yep, the flash mob he managed to choreograph for you that need a distraction to get into formation. The school is suddenly drowned in some kind of metal ballad and the group of fanatics turn out to be a very coordinated ballet. Eddie himself is dancing. Is that a microphone taped to his cheek? The bastard is live-singing while he dances.

Eddie grabs your hand and makes you spin like a million times. You clearly don’t know the choreography, but he’s just so good at making you hit the marks that it ends up looking seamless.

It’s easy for Eddie to forget. Dancing with you always feels like being by Lover’s Lake- like he’s never left, like he isn’t a day over eighteen. Like you’re still there to laugh at his missteps. Like home is still a person in his life. It’s so easy to forget about the times he wasn’t there to dance with you in the kitchen. The times where his missteps where just things you had to push through, things you had to fix, things that made you cry of exhaustion.

Especially when you smile at him without even realizing. That’s a special smile right there. The first and only Wonder of Hawkins: your happiness. He thanks a God he doesn’t believe in that he can still write a half decent song for your birthday. Eddie faintly wonders if he could do this for you once a week, and quickly decides it’s just not possible. He needs to see you smile once a day, at the very least.

It's not the first time he’s had that thought. Actually, Eddie screwed things up just one time less than he’s thought about your laugh. Guess he always has tomorrow to even the scores.

The music ends and he dips you.

It physically hurts, seeing the way you let yourself go in Eddie's arms. How stupidly you trust him. Even after everything. You seem to think the same, because you straighten up and fix your shirt in an attempt to step away from him.

It doesn’t work. It never does.

That night, Eddie cooks for everyone- everyone being you and the kids. It’s your favorite, and you're even wearing a cozy pijama instead of being all dolled up in a fancy restaurant. You have plans to do that on the weekend with your friends, anyway. Not like he knows that. Not like he needs to. You enjoy the homemade meal; the kids chat the whole time and Eddie pretends to eat. Then he brings out another impossible treat- Wayne’s two ingredient chocolate mousse, the one that requires off brand chocolate, only sold in Meldval’s General Store. He lit a candle, and all of them sing Happy Birthday in perfect tune.

After that, Eddie takes the kids to bed. It’s a weekday, after all. Not everyone has the eclectic schedule of a rockstar.

When Eddie comes back, you’re piling the dishes in the sink. It’s almost laughable, how he always ends up giving you more work, even if he’s just trying to make things about you. He pleads for you to let him clean. Just this once, you let him.

Instead of leaving to get ready for bed, you stay. Sitting atop of the counter. Again, Eddie has the weird feeling that he went back in time while dreaming. He remembers a night like this. It probably ended with you sleeping on his chest. He also remembers all the late nights he came home to you sleeping alone. Eddie cleans faster. This time, you don’t seem to care.

He tries to fill the silence telling you how Gareth sends his love, and all the stupid birthday gifts ideas he had to ban Dustin from bringing to fruition. You listen in silence. It’s like watching a black and white T.V. show. It looks like real life, even sounds like it. But there’s a clear difference.

Eddie finishes the dishes and goes on to clean the entire kitchen. At some point, even he lost track of what he was talking about. You keep quiet. He runs out of things to clean. It doesn’t feel as if he got rid of any part of the mess he made. You don’t look at him.

It’s almost twelve, if the kitchen clock hasn’t run out of batteries again. Maybe he should replace them soon. If you haven’t yet. You probably have. Never needed him to keep things working.

Eddie knows it’s late. As in, you should be sleeping already. So he goes to grab his jacket.

But you say “Thank you”.

Many things he doesn’t know. He never knew how to stop being a disaster. Never knew to be home on time, to get his life together, to be better. He also doesn’t know how to say no. Or how to stop himself.

One thing he knows is you.

As usual, it ends up great for him. His arms on your waist and back, his body between your sheets. He’s wearing an old t-shirt of his that evolved into your pajama. You smell like warmth. Your hair is soft against his clavicles, your weight stops his mind from wandering around like it usually does. It’s the right thing to do. After all those nights you fell asleep alone. The least he can do is lend you his chest to sleep tonight. Happy Birthday.

As usual, it ends up terribly for you. Your hands tug on his shirt, and this time he’s actually there. Eddie’s breathing cradles you to a calm night of sleep. You’re finally comfortable in that awfully big bed. Things aren't black and white anymore. It’s the worst thing he could have done. After all those nights you slept alone. The least he could do is leave you to try and fix yourself once and for all. Instead, he tried being nice again. And here you are, the next morning, having to clean up the mess he left.